Part of Me
by luckyirishtart
Summary: Written with WitFit daily prompts Jan/Feb 2013: 90's sex, drugs and rock and roll. E/B, AH and M
1. Persistent

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll **_

**Word Prompts**: Persistent, resistant, reminisce

"Are you coming or what?!"

I looked out the small window and checked under the light of the streetlamp to see if it had quit raining. Only a light fog hung around and I was thankful for the reprieve from the persistent, blustery weather that had lingered all day.

"Hurry up, Bella. I don't want to miss the first set and if we get there late we can't go inside," Rose said, tossing on a shiny black rain coat.

Turning from the window in the hall, I noticed she was, as per usual, impeccably dressed, with her long, flaxen hair grazing the top of her hip in a shiny sheen. I felt so underdressed.

"Just a sec, I need a coat so I won't get cold." _And to cover up my ancient sweater and skirt ensemble_, I thought.

Ultimately, I would have preferred to stay in and curl up with a good book. Resistant as I was to following musicians around like a groupie, Rose was so excited about this particular band, and something about her enthusiasm told me that maybe I shouldn't miss this one.

An exasperated sound followed me down the hallway.

"Coming!" I half-shouted at her. "Don't get all riled up."

She was already halfway out the door when I rounded the corner into the living room.

Rose's new Mustang LX cut through the side streets on lower Queen Anne, leaving a wet spray in its wake. We eventually ended up on the Viaduct, heading south to the industrial part of Seattle—to an area I wasn't familiar with.

Away from the bright lights of the skyline, things seemed so dark. The houses were jumbled together in tight knit rows with no discernible sidewalks and mostly busted out streetlamps.

We ended up on a dead end road in front of a gray house set apart from the rest. Multiple cars plugged the driveway, giving an illusion of a party rather than a band practice.

"This is it? Looks like it should be condemned," I mumbled.

"That's why they use it as a practice place. The owner doesn't really care what they do in there as long as they pay the rent," she said as she took the keys out of the ignition. "Trust me. You won't be disappointed."

Her ability to be so open to new things was enviable. Everybody knew Rose—she moved effortlessly through the local music scene, attending as many live performances as possible. Her current boyfriend, only official for the past six weeks or so, had orbited around her like the proverbial moth to a flame for months.

It was only a matter of time before they ended up together: Rose always knew what she wanted, and this time it happened to be Emmett. They spent every spare moment together, except when he was with the band. I'd only met him once when he came by to pick her up from my place. That day he was dressed in his delivery uniform, fresh off of work looking like any other guy off of the street . . . definitely not like his rock-band alter ego.

Carefully walking up the rickety steps on the side of the house, we entered into the kitchen —much at our own risk, I mused. The door had about thirty layers of paint that had clearly obliterated the molding over time. Old linoleum greeted us as we walked in, sticky with remnants of beer and soft from years of use.

There were a few people dotted amongst the old furniture littering a living room that appeared hazy from smoke and a single lamp. I was surprised at the condition of the inside; it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Despite its outwardly condemned appearance, the house seemed cozy.

"See," Rose said, reading the surprise on my face. "Told you it wasn't so bad."

"Yeah. Not as scary in here as it is out there."

She shook her head and grabbed my hand to lead us into the basement.

The dark stairway opened into a large room with unusually tall ceilings for being a lower level. It had been altered a little, probably to make for better acoustics. We slid into the room unnoticed while the guys from the band moved their equipment around, getting ready to play.

Rose caught the eye of Emmett almost immediately and he winked back at her as he screwed on the final hi-hat to his drum set. The band had just come back from a few gigs on the 'road'—a run down Elk's lodge and an Eastside roller rink. They were ready to cut their first demo and were pushing rehearsals now. Supposedly, they'd caught the eye of a producer for an indie label in Seattle.

I sat quietly on an old sofa watching them get ready. Emmett jumped over a few cords and made his way across the room. Grabbing two beers out of an old dilapidated fridge, he handed one to Rose and one to me.

"Hey, Babe," he said kissing her on the mouth. Rose reached up with her fingers, adorned with long red nails, to wipe a swatch of residual lip color off of his lips. "Hey, Bella."

"Hey, Emmett. This is a cool place."

"Wait 'til we get going. It'll melt your face off."

I laughed and accepted the beer he passed in my direction. "That's what I hear. Sounds like fun."

They exchanged a few quiet words before he backed away to resume his setup.

"I thought you said we were going to be late."

Rose looked at her watch, shrugged. "We would have been, but Emmett just said one of the guys isn't here yet. Seems like you got a reprieve."

"Hah. Don't be like that—you love me even when I make you late."

She clinked her bottle with mine. "That I do."

We talked about random bits of gossip while we waited, eventually migrating to a darker corner of the basement to get away from a guy toking up some potent shit. The conversation was low and the air in the room seemed a little tense. The band stood ready to play, shuffling around, plucking a string or two.

"Finally," Emmett shouted, glancing at the stairs. I couldn't see what he did, crowded as the area was, but I did see when he nodded at the blond guitar player standing in front of the drum kit. The guy moved his hands and the opening chords of _Welcome To the Jungle _floated in the air.

There was a couple of greetings, followed by a low voice I couldn't quite make out and a whiny, female voice.

Not really interested, I reached down to pick up my beer. When I sat back up, I noticed a tall couple moving across the room. I could barely see the guy through the statuesque blond attached to his back, her hand in his back pocket. He carried his guitar case on his left while she clung to him for dear life, narrowly missing the amplifier cords with her high heels.

I was put off by the display but too curious to turn away. He put his things down and she immediately wrapped her hands around his shoulders speaking to him softly when he lightly, but noticeably shrugged her off. She huffed, took her cue and went to sit with a few girls on our side of the room, completely ignoring us as she passed.

I turned back to look at the guy she came with and couldn't help but notice his lean body: the muscles of his back twisting and flexing as he set up his guitar. I could see a tattoo underneath his right bicep, peeking out from under his sleeve. The pattern was reminiscent of something I'd seen once before. His hair looked dark in the dim light, and I couldn't tell if it was brown or black.

He leaned over to light a cigarette, taking a long, slow drag before slinging the guitar strap over his shoulder. Plugging in an amp cord, he nodded his head as if to signal the guys that he was finally ready to play.

The song started in an acoustical pattern, slow and melodic as he began. His back was still turned to me and I closed my eyes, listening to the beginning of the song—the notes filling and haunting the room as I imagined the smoke drifting around his head.

Feeling the music, I opened my eyes to see the blond guitar player turn to meet his band mate in the middle. Their easy compliment of each other was so very fitting to the song; I could feel the chemistry between them as they played.

The bass player nodded his head and grinned at something almost private as he strummed.

When the lead guitarist began to sing, I sought out his face, completely mesmerized by the tone of his voice. He lifted his head to close in on the mic and caught my eye as he turned.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Underneath the copper-colored hair that partially covered his brow—the hair that I had ran my fingers through many times, not so long ago—were the eyes of Edward Cullen.

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_Excited to do this. Hope you enjoy._

_Thanks nicnicd for letting me bounce things off and for helping me to shake off the dust. xoxo_

_Song: Soundgarden – Blow Up The Outside_


	2. Streak

_****__Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll **_

**Word Prompts**: Streak

-PoM-

_It can't be._

The thrum of bass guitar, the steady crash of drums, and the howl of the lead guitar all dulled. Like floating in water, where your ears drop below the surface and you hear only muted flashes of sound, a sense of awareness stole over me.

Edward Cullen was here.

His gaze flicked over me; nothing more than a general glance around the crowd, and I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I couldn't help but watch his face for any sign of recognition.

And then, like resurfacing from the cool blue of a pool, when everything rushes back and you become aware again, I moved backward and further into the shadows. Rose was so into the set she didn't even notice me leave her side.

The riff of an unfamiliar chord invaded my senses just as Edward's attention, eyes alert now, slammed back to the now-empty spot where I'd been thirty seconds before. His brow furrowed, and he seemed to shake himself before refocusing on the notes of the song.

The band continued with a set of covers ranging from soulful acoustics to raucous jams, each one better somehow than the one before. The last song, poignant, intense, all yearning loss and shattered hope, simply exploded from Edward as he closed his eyes and wrapped his voice around the lyrics until they became one and the same.

As the last chord echoed through the room, Emmett and the bass player—a skinny, dark-haired kid— bumped fists over the drums. There small crowd exploded, energy held in check during the last song releasing as people gathered around the band.

Edward's eyes scanned the room but I had slowly worked my way into a hallway, allowing the darkness to provide a curtain to my identity. Part of my ego _wanted_ him to notice me, but the blonde girl killed that hope quickly. She pushed her way through the mass of bodies to throw herself at him, and I turned away before I saw any more.

"Bella!" Rose, barely audible over the noise, finally noticed my absence. "Where are— Hey! What are you doing?"

"I need a smoke. I'm gonna duck out back," I gave her no more, just turned in search of an exit.

With the clinging dampness of a chill Seattle night surrounding me, I took a long drag of my cigarette and tried to dispel some of the anxiety of the last hour. A steady wisp of smoke clung to the little corner of a back porch I'd found, forming a bubble around me and my thoughts. I inhaled again, watching the lights twinkling off of the First Avenue Bridge on to the Duwamish River below. It was another world—completely different from here, completely different from mine.

I wanted to go home but knew Rose wouldn't want to leave. Escape was first choice, but barring that, hanging out right where I stood would do just as well. Rose would find me eventually; I could tell her that the crowd had freaked me out and she'd buy that.

The back door opened, sound amplified and spilled out, and the bass player stepped onto the worn and weathered deck.

"Hey," he said. Up close he seemed thinner than down in the basement, sort of cagey.

"Hi," I returned, watching him light up a small pipe.

He inhaled and passed it over to me, instantly relaxing.

"No, thanks," I said holding up my cigarette. I didn't smoke weed often, though I could have used it right then.

"That's cool," he rasped through the smoke in his lungs, shrugging his shoulders as if to say _more for me._ Raising his head to the sky, he finally let out the long stream of smoke that he'd been holding inside. "I'm Tyler."

"Bella." I hesitated. "Um, great set. You guys sounded amazing."

He smiled, sort of dopey but sweet. "Right on. Yeah, I love it when we get tight like that. It feels so easy. Just how I imagined it," he said, putting the pipe to his lips again and inhaling deeply.

I waited until his lungs were clear once more before I spoke. "How long have you guys been together?"

"About a year. We're kind of pieced together from other local bands. It's so cool we found Ed when we did. He just makes everything complete, you know?"

All I could do was nod.

"We have this gig coming up soon that could be huge. Everyone's kind of tense about it. I keep telling them to just let it go because, right now? We're in the groove, man. Totally copacetic."

I smiled again, enjoying his company. He was that sort of artist that seemed to just _get _it, content to talk shop to anyone who'd listen, and confident enough to think it'd all work out. And, after listening to the set, I could see why—he had talent.

He rambled some more between tokes, asking me about bands I liked and what I thought of the sound coming out of Seattle recently. All the while, I worked up the nerve to push for some info on Edward, mainly how the hell did he wind up here?

The voice that came through the closed door stopped that thought in its tracks. Tyler rolled his eyes as he moved to make way for the new occupants of the deck.

"Here we go again," he said, heaving himself off the rail he leaned against to my side. "Sure you don't want to smoke up?"

"No, really. I'm cool on—"

"I just don't get him. Such a fucking buzzkill."

"—not partaking," I finished.

"Your funeral," he muttered even as he packed another bowl.

The blonde, attention focused on the large leather bag she was rooting through, walked out accompanied by a brunette with a blue streak in her hair and a fedora perched on her head. Plucking a long menthol from a green pack, the blonde lifted it to her lips, inhaling as the other girl lit it for her. The flame illuminated her face, elongating her pretty features.

"He's so stressed out," she complained. "Don't know what his fucking problem is, he never wants me to come to practice with him." She glanced at Tyler, rolled her eyes.

Well, that was rude.

Her friend looked at her. "He's just being an ass, Tanya."

"I don't understand why. It's not like I'm in the way."

I smirked and ducked my face down to hide it.

"I don't know why you're still worrying about him, anyway. This place is a fucking heap, let's get out of here and go dancing or something."

The girl—Tanya, I reminded myself—pondered that for a minute. "Where?"

"I don't know…the Vogue or Neighbors. C'mon, we can get sloshed and dance and not worry about anything."

She smiled, all cat in the canary. "Yeah, I guess I don't really feel like sitting here half the night being ignored. Let me just tell him."

"I'd just blow him off. And don't even think about blowing _him _before we ditch this shit-hole. He's being rude."

"Too late for that tonight. Just give me a sec."

She threw down her lit cigarette on to the wooden deck and walked back into the house. Her friend, finally acknowledging the audience of me and Tyler, shot us a look that clearly said she was weighing whether or not we were worth her time. She turned and followed Tanya inside.

Tyler let out a loud sigh and walked over to pick up the still burning cigarette, putting it out on his heel before tossing it toward a metal bucket not three inches away. He took another hit off of his pipe and snuffed out the bowl, saving the rest for later.

"Coming? We're about to start again."

"I'll be in when I finish," I said, showing him my half-finished smoke. "Nice talking to you."

"Yeah. Catch ya later."

The butterflies swirled inside as I thrilled at seeing Edward again. But the way it happened—the way I left, it was just not cool. Stay here, or go back in . . . both had their drawbacks, and both had merits.

Rose poked her head outside. "What the hell are you still doing out here? I've been waiting for you to come back, but_ no_," she said, drawing the vowel out, "you force me to come looking for your pale ass."

"Through Emmett's face?" I retorted, putting out my smoke.

"No, smartass, we were hanging out inside _talking_. And, by the way, someone was asking about you . . . Something you haven't told me?"

"Who?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"The singer?"

"Oh." I pretended to dig through my coat pocket.

"That's all you're going to give me?"

I sighed and shuffled my feet a little, and looked up to see her leaning, arms crossed, against the doorjamb.

"I kind of know him."

"From where?"

"My last visit to Phoenix, but I don't really want to go into it here," I said, looking around her shoulder and into the house.

"Ah," Rose said, comprehension overtaking her annoyed look. "She's gone."

"Can we just save it for later?"

She gave a low whistle. "Must be bad. You want to split?"

"I'll stay if you want. I just feel weird about . . . yeah."

"I'd really like to stay for another set before we go. Just one. I barely get to see Emmett as it is right now with gigs and practices. We can split immediately after, promise."

I sighed, resigned. The lights of the bridge caught my attention once more, and I stared in that direction while weighing my options. Rose was reasonable, at least, and I knew she'd park us right by the stairs if I asked her to. It'd have to do for now.

"I know. I'll hang tough. I'm just not ready to talk to him right now."

"And why is that?"

My head snapped back around toward the new, but so painfully familiar, voice joining the conversation.

Edward, even better up close than I remembered, stood behind Rose, eyes locked on me.

-PoM-

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_Thank you for reading!_

_xo nic_

_Song: Seasons - Chris Cornell_


	3. Drain

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll **_

**Word Prompt**: Drain

-PoM-

Earlier, in the basement when I'd done my best to hide in the shadows, his double take had seemed almost unbelieving, and, unlike before, our gazes connected this time. It wasn't casual, and it certainly wasn't comfortable.

I cleared my throat but the words just weren't there.

Instead I took in his appearance, cataloguing the differences. The hair was longer and there was dark scruff along the line of his jaw. My eyes fell to the hem of his shirt and I noticed the long fingers of his right hand curled around a cigarette. Memories that had never really faded bubbled up to the surface, and I scanned the inside of his arm for the red and black tattoo—a beautifully crafted celtic knot.

"Bella."

Avoidance was something I couldn't rely on any longer. I could already feel him, although we were only a few feet apart.

"Hi, Edward."

Rose, rooted to her spot with a stance that resembled a mama bear, looked between the two of us. Unless I gave her the go-ahead, she wasn't going to move even if the earth shook and as much as I didn't want to face it, this was mine to deal with.

"I'll be right in," I said, giving her a small smile and touching her arm to nudge her inside.

She hesitated, clearly torn. "See you inside."

Silence, that in actuality was brief, seemed to stretch into eons. I shifted on my feet side to side, wondering who was going to make the first move—it _should _be me, I knew that, but the words that would explain why I'd left felt cowardly, somehow.

He put the smoke to his lips and inhaled deeply.

"So, wow."

"Yeah," I said. My body shook, and I was glad for the chilly night air that could explain away my nervous fretting. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Great." The lack of substance in our words did little to soothe my anxiety. Taking a deep breath, I gave him an uncertain smile. "This is kind of a weird coincidence. I mean, how did you end up here of all places?"

Without missing a beat, he said, "Why did you leave without a word?"

The anger I expected was absent in his tone. And as much as those reasons were the right ones for me at the time, they also led to answers that I wasn't ready to give.

"I . . . I don't really know."

He flicked his ashes onto the deck and watched me with a look that said he knew I was full of shit.

"I tried to find you, you know."

"You did?" I said, truly surprised. My heart jumped at his words.

"Yeah, I did. But, I guess it is what it is."

And, really, what could I say to that? God, this was off-the-scale awkward. The darkness of the night was a blessing because the heat in my face openly reflected my embarrassment. I looked down, fiddling with the zipper of my jacket while I formulated words that didn't sound so trite in my head. _Deep breaths, _I told myself, _he deserves an answer. _Needing a clue to how it would be received, I looked back up to gauge his mood, and was surprised for the third time tonight. His look had softened somewhat, propelling me toward outright honesty.

"What I didn't say, because I didn't know how to, was—"

"Can we get goin', man?"

The blond guy, the other one who played guitar, had stuck his head out of the door, and he didn't look pleased. My jaw clicked closed with a snap, and I took a step back toward the porch stairs. Edward definitely noticed—he held his hand out, interrupting my flight toward Rose's car.

He turned his face to tell his friend he was coming, and then his attention was back on me. "Come inside, okay? We'll talk later."

I nodded, waiting while he leaned over and put out his smoke in the bucket before following him inside.

The blonde, Tanya, was nowhere to be seen, and I was glad that she'd indeed bailed with her friend.

I took my seat next to Rose and winced when her sharp elbow connected with my ribs.

"What the hell was that?"

I shook my head. There would be plenty of time to tell her later. Resigned, she leaned over and grabbed her beer.

"Fine, then. Let's give you a rundown. The blond guy is Jasper. He's the driving force behind everything. He and Edward promote it together but he runs the show. The bass player is Tyler, and he's the youngest in the band."

When my eyes landed on Tyler, he gave me a nod and a smile, so I waved back. Edward didn't miss a thing and a slight scowl appeared on his face.

The tension in the room, especially amongst the band had changed significantly; it was new, now, more upbeat and anticipatory as the band started with a loud, powerful song. The guitars screamed in an odd, almost discordant tone that was so brilliantly raw.

With the initial shock of seeing him past, and without any other distractions, I watched him openly now. His body, still tall but leaner, rippled in tune to the chords, back bowing as he ripped at the frets of his guitar and let loose a guttural growl.

His hair fell into his eyes, leaving his lips, lips that I had marveled over so many times before, to intimate themselves with the microphone.

No, I couldn't think that, not when he was with somebody else now.

Didn't stop the memories playing, though.

_I saw him across the room, casually talking to one of Angela's friends. She nudged me from behind, "Go and tell Rory I want to talk to him over here. Then make your move."_

"_Ange, he's way outta my league."_

"_Are you serious? I've seen him check you out a few times. Just go!"_

_Fidgety, I made my way across the room thinking that it was stupid the entire walk over. Before I knew it I was standing in front of this guy that I knew nothing about, and Rory._

"_Hey, Rory, Ange wants your help." I knew he'd jump; he was so head over heels for her it wasn't funny._

"_Oh, okay. Catch you later, man?" he said to the guy I'd been sneaking peeks at all night._

"_Yeah, no prob," he said, taking a sip of his beer. _

_He was aloof, so cool that I wondered what Angela had been thinking sending me over here. Chickening out, I decided to just leave, but stopped at the words that came as I turned. _

"_Hey. I'm Edward."_

The band completed the second set with an elevated mood that had lacked in the first, taking only a brief pause to drain a drink each before launching in to the third. This one was more scaled back, songs melodic and much more harmonious than the previous sets. I watched, transfixed, as these talented men, instruments so in tune with each other they were almost a fifth band member, cast a spell over the crowd.

After their last set, Jasper, all business, picked up his stuff and headed for the stairs. "Catch you guys tomorrow night." A smattering of goodbyes followed him up the stairs.

Rose turned to me. "Do you still want to go?"

I looked over to where Edward was putting his stuff away and shook my head. "I'm okay. Do what you need to do and then we can go." She squeezed my hand and headed over to Emmett.

Before I got up the nerve to approach Edward, a pretty brunette walked up to him and gave him a light hug. She was joined by another girl who kissed him on the cheek. Watching him chat so easily with those girls sent my stomach twisting. It was the very thing I hated about hanging around bands—the need of everyone to be noticed, the endless supply of girls.

The easy feeling the third set had weaved over me and washed away my nerves like water down a drain, and I grabbed my things to head outside again. We had to talk, but I didn't want him to think I was waiting for him. I navigated the small clusters of people talking, making my way toward the door when I felt a hand on my elbow, firm but careful. Intimate.

"Hey, you're not taking off are you?"

I glanced at him over my shoulder, torn. "Uh, no. I'm just waiting for Rose."

"I don't want you to get away again."

His words threaded themselves around my heart and lightly squeezed. His fingers slowly released their grip and slid over my exposed skin.

"I was just going outside…" I held up my pack of Marlboros to prove the point.

His posture relaxed. "I have a few things to do, wait there? I'll be right out."

"Okay."

My heart was bouncing off the walls of my chest as I stepped back into the cold night air, and the breeze felt wonderful on my overheated skin. Futile as it was to guess what he was thinking, I prepared myself anyway for the conversation we were about to have.

"_So this is your place?" I asked, and then gave myself a mental slap. Duh. _

"_Obviously. I had keys, remember?" He grabbed my hand, pulling me into the apartment behind him. It was nice to notice that he looked as nervous as I felt._

_He offered a drink, and I took a seat on the futon couch, moving around a few times while I tried to figure out how or where I should sit._

_He delivered a cold beer to my hand and sat beside me, but somehow words escaped us both. Instead he leaned back to the side and picked up his guitar, playing a little tune that I sort of recognized._

"_Wow. You're really good." _

"_Eh, just practice a lot."_

The driveway had begun to clear when he stepped outside with a couple of beers in one hand. He held one out to me and I accepted it, grateful for something to do.

"Your band is really amazing."

He reached up and grabbed a smoke from behind his ear. "Thanks. It's been . . . fucking stellar. Really. I can't believe I found these guys, such amazing musicians, who wanted me to play with them. They're all so talented, especially Ty. You wouldn't believe what comes out of that little guy."

"I met him earlier. He seems really nice."

His smile was tight. "Yeah. One of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. He's behind a lot of our original stuff, just comes up with some insane shit. Kind of brilliant, really. But, and here's the thing, right? He doesn't want any of the glory." He took a sip of his beer. "So you're friends with Rose, then?"

"Yeah, I met her when I came back to Seattle," I said, picking at the label on my beer.

"And when was that, exactly?"

I paused, but decide to just let it go. The weirdness would maybe always linger, but I had to be honest. "The day after I left Phoenix."

He said nothing, just took another pull of his beer and watched me. I stared back.

"You ready to go?" I looked up, surprised that Rose was already there, and then back at Edward, suddenly regretting that our time had been cut so short. I wanted to talk to him. Explain what I did and why.

"Yeah, I guess." I pleaded at her with my eyes to give me another few minutes with him.

She looked at Edward but directed her voice to me. "I'll meet you at the car."

Before I could answer he asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I have to work, but not until two in the afternoon."

"Do you want to grab some coffee? I'd really like to talk to you, Bella."

His face, so guarded but hopeful, sealed the deal.

"Sure." I reached into my purse to find a piece of paper. As I rummaged, he held out his hand.

"Got a pen?"

"On your hand?" I asked, making a face.

"Good a place as any."

"Okay, then."

Wrapping my hand around his fingers—my own were shaking as they ghosted over his palm—I turned his hand to scribble my numbers onto his. When I was finished, he turned his around to squeeze my hand.

"Bella!"

"That's Rose for ya," I said, rolling my eyes.

He dropped my hand slowly, and with some reluctance. "Call you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling.

Backing away, he said, "It's really good to see you."

"You, too. Good night."

The tight feeling in my stomach was hopeful and tumultuous at the same time, but my smile grew even bigger as I walked to the car.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_

_Song: Rusty Cage-Soundgarden _


	4. Series

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll **_

**Word Prompt: **Series

During my time in Seattle, I'd learned a few things. One was that I absolutely loved the way the city looked, but especially at night. It was beautiful, almost raw; the twinkling lights of huddled buildings and skyscrapers ahead lulled me into a calm place as I ran over the events of the night in my head. The feeling of his fingers in mine again still lingered, the scent of him when he was so close, all whiskey, smoke and man, was one I clung to.

I could easily fall into the memories of him and I together naked in bed but didn't dare.

"You haven't said a word the entire way home and I'm about ready to squeeze it out of you." Rose looked at me sideways while she continued to drive. "You're not getting out of it," she reminded me.

There were things about my past she knew, but this was certainly not one of them. My tears those first few months were better off hidden in the dead of night. While I'd had a few casual dates here and there, they never evolved into anything serious. I didn't know if I was looking for more but, after being with Edward, I hadn't had the desire to forge anything with anyone.

I sighed, knowing she wouldn't give up. "It was right before I started school last year—before I met you. I'd gone back to Phoenix to visit my mom after graduation and I wanted more than anything to do something exciting. I mean, I'd kind of just existed through high school and here I was about to start college . . ." I sat up pulling my coat more tightly around me as if that would help.

I looked up to see the Space Needle disappear as we entered the Battery Street tunnel, and the sudden glare of the bright lights provided a little shock that prodded me to continue. "I met him through a friend of mine at a party on campus."

"So, obviously, you guys hit it off?"

"I'd say." I chuckled. "I boned him."

Out of the tunnel now, the car swerved and pulled to a stop on the side of the road, and the shock that registered on her face was classic. I wished I had my camera with me.

"Boned. You mean, like, slept with him?"

I responded to her like explaining something to a child. "We didn't really _sleep_. I left when he fell asleep."

"Wait. What the hell? I can't believe what you're telling me. You, Bella Swan, pulled a 'one-nighter'? I've barely seen you date anyone!"

"Actually it was three days . . ."

She stared at me from the driver's seat. "I'm fucking floored."

"It's really not a big deal," I said, more or less trying to convince myself. "It was supposed to be a random hookup. And I never guessed he'd end up here."

"Looked like it was a big deal to him. In case it slipped your notice, once he saw you, he could barely focus on anything else."

I turned back to look at her. "Rose, he has a girlfriend."

"That bitch? No one in the band can stand her."

"Doesn't matter. He's taken."

She sighed. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't exactly know."

-PoM-

Needless to say, I couldn't sleep that night. The covers kept getting tangled in my restless legs as I furiously turned everything over in my mind. At the time, when it happened, I didn't think about anybody but myself. What I thought was supposed to be a fun experience turned into a series of memories that repeated like a movie in my head.

The next morning, I was up early. I folded laundry, cleaned the kitchen and did anything I could to pass the time. If he didn't call me, I probably deserved it.

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed my book bag, thinking I'd head somewhere to read. When the phone rang, I dropped my keys and bag and headed straight for the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hi," I said, wrapping myself in the phone cord.

"Still want to meet for breakfast?"

I was surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. "I thought it was just for coffee?"

"A guy's gotta eat."

I giggled—typical male. "Sure. Where?"

"I don't even know where you live."

"Queen Anne."

"Perfect. Can you meet me at the Mecca in half an hour?"

"That'd be fine. See you then." I nervously put down the phone and panicked.

Maybe some people would think a random hookup didn't mean much—three days time wasn't really enough to get to know a person, after all. But with him, things were . . . different. I couldn't explain it if I tried.

Now, though, I had some explaining to do and I really wanted to see him—girlfriend or not.

When I arrived at the cafe, he was sitting in a small booth close to the front furiously writing on a spiral notebook. Silently I approached the table, watching as he concentrated on his whatever it was he was doing. His pen paused, and I took my cue.

"Hey," I said slinging my bag into the booth.

He looked up and his face broke into a wide grin. "Hey," he said, moving to stand up.

"You must live close if you got here that fast," I said.

"Just over on Eastlake. Not too far. How about you?"

"Eastside Queen Anne. Up on Galer."

The waitress approached our table. "Hey, Ed, how are you?" She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I straightened, feeling the hackles go up on the back of my neck, but then chastised myself at my reaction; it wasn't my place to get annoyed.

"I'm doing great. Maria, this is my friend, Bella."

She turned to me. "Hi, nice to meet you."

I smiled and returned, "You too."

"So what can I get you?" We proceeded to give her our requests, I settled for coffee and a muffin due to the large set of nerves that had reappeared in my stomach.

When she walked away, he gauged my face. "She's Jasper's ex. And they've stayed friendly."

Surprised that he felt the need to even qualify her place in his life, I shrugged my shoulders. "That's cool."

"I'm glad you came last night. Kinda cool surprise to have you there."

"Yeah. Weird, right? I mean, I almost didn't go, but Rose talked me into it." Maria had delivered our coffees and I relaxed a bit. "So how did you end up here? I mean, when I met you, it was all about college."

He sat back and raked his fingers over the side of his head. "Well, Emmett's my cousin. He called early September and told me that they were looking for a singer who could write as well as play, so I left school to come and pursue the band. Felt like now was the time. It wasn't an easy decision but something told me I just needed to do this."

"Well, you guys sound like you've been together forever. No one can garner that kind of chemistry so quickly."

He laughed.

"What?"

"I forgot," he said, thoroughly amused.

Confused, I looked at him, the question on my face.

"How well versed you are in the Seattle music scene? A veritable encyclopedia if I recall."

"I only know from what I read and listen to. Besides, you know as much as me," I teased. "If not more."

"Just a fan," he said, shrugging it off. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm still in school, heading into my sophomore year at UW. Doesn't leave much time for anything else with a full load, really, and I've just been working this summer," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

"What are you studying?"

"Journalism."

"How did I fail to get that out of you?"

"As I recall, I didn't really tell you that much about myself. "

"I guess you didn't. But then again, we didn't do a lot of talking."

The coffee I'd just raised to my lips went down the wrong pipe, and I sputtered and grabbed a napkin so I wouldn't embarrass myself more than his words already had. He grinned, clearly unrepentant, and sat back to watch me.

"No, we didn't." I wrapped my hands around the oversized cup and held them there—no way was I taking another sip until his unabashed teasing had settled down.

It was something I'd liked about him from the start—he was charming, and funny, but also a little bit wicked.

He tapped his cup a few times. "How come you left?"

Ah, here we went. Time to woman up. "I had to."

"Why?" He sat for a few moments watching me.

"If I didn't, I would have fallen for you." I looked out of the window. "And probably hard." A man ambled past, his dog trotting five steps ahead of him like there was nothing better in the world.

Everything from that last moment with him came rushing back as I watched the city around us: how hot tears had filled my eyes as I got dressed, spilling over when I looked back at the bed where he was sleeping soundly. I'd had little experience when it came to sex, but he'd touched something in me so deeply that it cracked my emotions wide open. I cried the entire way home, and my mom thought it was because I was leaving her; I cried on the way to the airport, and the tears continued on the plane. My heart broke with every mile. He'd left a silent, indelible mark on me that would be forever etched in my soul.

A tug on my hand brought me back to the reality of life now.

"Hey," he said, softly. "Don't you think I felt it too?"

I searched his face and fell willingly into the welcoming depths of grass green eyes. But only for a moment—today was for clearing the air and saying I was sorry. I pulled my hand away and tucked it underneath the table.

"I didn't think it would be that way," I said. "Besides, that was a while ago. Things are different now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with being in a band, I'm sure there's lots of girls who are pretty interested."

"Interested?"

"I definitely noticed one."

He sat back, eyes gauging me. "Meaning what?"

"Your girlfriend?"

"You mean Tanya?"

I nodded.

He sighed heavily and crossed his arms. "We've known each other for a while." He looked away and didn't elaborate, because I knew he couldn't. "I don't know if she likes the idea of us or being attached to a band."

The awkward silence that hung between us now felt like a door closing. He noticed my demeanor and said, "Hey, I did my best to find you. I never thought you'd be here."

"You don't need to explain. It was my doing and I'm sorry. I'd just never done anything like that before."

"I know."

I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but Maria appeared with a giant plate of biscuits and gravy for him and a blueberry muffin for me.

"You sure you don't want anything else?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thank you."

Unsettled, I picked at my muffin, tearing it to shreds first and then eating the berries first. Had my inexperience been so noticeable, then? That was really, really embarrassing to think about. I pushed my pate to the side and grabbed for my coffee.

We were silent as we ate, and I was glad for it.

After a few minutes, he sat forward, "You busy on Friday?"

I wondered if he forgot the conversation we just had. "Not really. Why?"

"Come to Bumbershoot with me. I have tickets for Soundgarden."

"What about . . ."

"She could care less. I want to go with you."

"She won't mind?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," I said. "And no." I paused for a second, trying to be honest with myself. "What time?"

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_

_xo nic_

_Song: Nearly Lost You - Screaming Trees_

_There are no prompts on Sundays, so the next chapter will post Monday PM. _


	5. Fireplace

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompts**: Fireplace

**Plot Generator – Binding Blurb: ** rushing to judgment.

-PoM-

When the buzzer sounded at two minutes 'til seven, I about jumped out of my skin.

My body practically lit on fire when I opened the door to see him standing there in a grey Sex Pistols t-shirt and jeans, with an ancient plaid shirt thrown on for warmth.

Honestly, though, as good as he looked, I wanted the plaid shirt to be gone—the tattoo I was so fond of on his arm was covered, and it was something I'd been looking forward to seeing again.

"Hi," I said. A hint of nerves were audible as a tremor in my voice.

"Thought I was going to be late, I had to park up the street a bit," he said as I let him in. "Wow, killer apartment."

I looked around, too, trying to see the place through fresh eyes. Rose and I had definite differences in style, but somehow they worked well together. Our place was a cool mix of kitschy and modern, and the amount of space was enviable to most of our friends.

"Yeah, I love it. We got lucky. The older lady that lives downstairs wanted to swap so she didn't have to do the stairs. We got the better view," I said, smiling at him.

He walked over to the window and looked out over Lake Union. "This is great."

"Thanks. It'd be even better if I there was a fireplace so when it's one of those chilly nasty days, I could just curl up with a good book and enjoy the view." That admission was a new bit of information to him, probably. It was sort of embarrassing to admit out loud how much of a shut-in I could be; during the time I'd spent with him in Phoenix it had definitely not come up.

"That sounds like heaven."

Because I wasn't expecting to agree with me, and at that to do it in a tone that said he was being really, truly, honest, a flash of excitement fluttered in my chest.

I cleared my throat. "So . . . should we go? I was thinking we could walk, if you want? It's only about ten minutes and there won't be any parking fees."

He nodded without turning around, so I ceased with the steady babbling and grabbed my I.D. and money from the counter and shoved them in my pocket. And then I waited.

He turned around. "Sorry. Lost in thought for a minute there. You ready to go?"

I ushered him out the door and locked up behind me. Rose was at Emmett's, where she'd probably stay, so I didn't bother leaving a note.

"Great night, huh?" I said as we started the walk down the hill.

"Perfect for a show. It's cool to see more people picking up on the Seattle scene."

I laughed. "You mean the kids in the Midwest who're finally getting over that tired hair band thing? MTV's been having a fit trying to put any 'grunge' bands on the air. Rose and I have been making fun for weeks."

He grunted.

"What?"

"Grunge." He said it with a sneer. "Always gotta be labeling things."

I smiled. I hadn't forgotten how into talking about music he was; I was the same, so I looked forward to this conversation.

"In a way, though, all 'labels' aside, it kind of is. It's so raw and gritty, and people are always going to call a movement by some sort of identifying name. Think about it: we go from bands like Bon Jovi and Poison, with the hairspray addiction and goofy clothes, to something so visceral. No one's heard anything like it, and they're throwing over the old regime for something infinitely better. It's about time."

"Nah, it's because of the way we dress," Edward deadpanned.

I laughed, but, really, there was an element of truth to that, too. "Eh, maybe. Whatever, I'm excited about it."

"Me too," he said, and there was a ring of hope in those two little words.

The closer we got to Bumbershoot and the gates to the Seattle Center, the more the crowd thickened. The cafes and restaurants we passed had their doors thrown open to let in some of the nice air, and the smells wafting out made my mouth water. I was glad it was an earlier show, because I was going to be starving by the time the lights went back up.

"Damn, lots of people out tonight," I said, trying to navigate my way through the crowd. Edward had an unfair advantage with the height thing, and he could certainly see over most of the massed bodies. I made my steps match his to keep from getting lost.

He paused, let a group of guys dressed like him pass in front of us. "Shit, come here. You'll get trampled."

He put his arm around me, hooking a finger in to the belt loop of my pants to keep a hold of me—or maybe he was getting fresh. I didn't know, but either way I didn't mind. Every once in a while his fingers would move against the skin of my waist, especially when we got stopped by someone cutting in front of us to rush a group of friends, and every time he touched me I had to hold my breath because it felt so damn good.

There was this . . . energy that was damn near palpable once we got inside the arena. Beer vendors shouting to be heard, amped up music enthusiasts talking over each other to discuss the next big thing coming out of Seattle . . . it was infectious, and just knowing that my favorite band was going to take the stage filled my stomach with excitement to where I was almost bouncing on my feet.

We found a spot at the edge of the floor, close enough to the front where we could see the stage and be out of the way of the gathering mosh pit already teeming with energetic fans. Edward nodded at a few roadies, obviously people he was familiar with. And then the lights went down, and the place went crazy.

_. . . Far __beyond__ the road, between your house and home . . . _"I love this song!" I shouted, raising my arms over my head to clap and scream my appreciation.

"Fuck, me too," Edward shouted back.

After that I was lost, spell-bound by the tone of Cornell's voice and the killer band that made up the whole. The show was beyond incredible, but even more so was being there with Edward. His hand never left my side, sometimes reaching around me to gather me tight when the sway of the crowd got too close.

I watched him occasionally, finding a thrill in seeing his enjoyment of the band. At times his voice would pitch low, near to my ear as he sang along, and at other times he was just as raucous as the crowd, head moving along to the music and arms raised over his head.

When the lights went up my throat hurt from singing along so loudly, and my eyes had trouble adjusting to the sudden brightness.

"Oh my god, that was incredible," I said, but the ringing in my ears let me know I was probably still shouting.

"Fucking killer," he agreed. "Did you see the fucking crowd? They were insane!"

I nodded, and then took a deep breath and dove forward when a spot opened up in the exodus. "Wanna look around some?" he asked when we got outside.

"Definitely." There were vendors all over the Center grounds hawking everything from hats with pot leaves on them to concert tees, and we had a blast strolling through and perusing the wares. Eventually the foot traffic cleared enough that we could make our way through easily, and we took our time walking back up the hill and discussing our favorite songs of the set.

When we arrived at his car he turned around and leaned back, placing a foot behind him on the door.

I twisted my hands together, and then leaned next to him against the car. "That was amazing, thank you so much for taking me."

He had another one of those unidentifiable looks on his face, and if there wasn't the knowledge that he wasn't mine, I would have loved to reach up and smooth my thumb over that furrowed brow.

"No. Thank _you_ for going. I can't imagine I would have enjoyed it more with anyone else."

Those words both thrilled and made me ache. I looked at our feet, smiling to myself at the general disrepair of our black sneakers. "Yeah . . . It was so good."

"You have plans the rest of the night?" he asked, and I looked up at the urgency in his voice.

"Not really. Why?"

He looked down the street. "I don't know. I figured we could hang out a little more. I was going to head to the band house later because I wanted to pick up one of my notebooks I left there. What would you say to taking a ride down there with me and maybe after we can go grab a drink."

And as much as I knew I shouldn't, anything to spend more time with him was a plus in my book. The signals he was throwing out made me think he was interested, too, or maybe he was just that friendly with everyone—really, I had three days and a couple of new hours time banked with him, so I couldn't be sure—but I'd deal with the fallout, if any, later.

"Sure."

He turned around and unlocked the passenger door to his car, opened it for me. Once inside he gave me a warm smile and turned the car southbound. On the way, he shoved a cassette into the deck of the car.

"Mother Love Bone? Nice." I picked up the cassette case. "A mix tape?"

He smirked. "Yeah. I threw it together the other day."

The twenty minute trip flew by with a veritable 'who's who' of up and coming bands, and our shared knowledge. By the time we got to the place I'd first saw him again last time, I had reached that place where I was blessed out on music talk and happy.

Without cars clogging the drive and lights shining inside, the house seemed even eerier than it had a few nights before, and felt like unknown territory once more. I followed behind him closely, watching over my shoulder for reasons I couldn't explain.

He unlocked the door, reached up to flip on a light, and then turned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. It's just really dark out there. "

He laughed. "Don't worry. If the boogeyman comes, I'll knock him out before he gets you."

"Because that's encouraging," I snarked. "Damn, this place is quiet."

We paused in the kitchen so he could grab a bottle of Jack Daniels from a small cabinet over the fridge, and I shook my head. How positively rock-n-roll of him. Before descending down the stairs, he flicked on a light and turned to grab my hand. "Watch your step."

The basement was pitch black, and I stood in place while he moved around the room, turning on a light or two as he went. It didn't help chase away the shadows, but it allowed me to watch as he crossed to a space where the wall formed a little corner. He crouched down, digging for something.

"What's that?" I asked when he produced a box from seemingly nowhere.

He just grinned, and the dim light made it look both seductive and menacing at the same time. He held up something, and I moved closer to see what it was.

Small, white, and twisted just perfectly.

"Game?" he offered.

"Sure." This time, compared to when Tyler offered, taking the edge off sounded like a great idea.

He lit the joint and walked over to me. Instead of handing it over, he held it to my lips and I reached up to steady his hand as I inhaled, watching him watch me.

A couple more of those and a weightless feeling stole its way through my limbs. I relaxed into the chair, pleasant warmth replacing the edginess, and grinned at nothing end everything all at once. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I knew what I wanted.

"You want a drink?" I looked up to see him wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, the whiskey bottle held out in offering.

"Nah, I'm good like this." Last thing I wanted to do was to get wasted.

He shrugged, setting it on the riser, and then where a few guitars had been propped against a speaker. Flipping on a switch, he pulled the cord back over to where I was sitting, sat on the floor, leaned against my legs and began to strum.

"_Well she's walking, through the clouds_," he sang softly.

It was a Jimi Hendrix song, the very one he'd played for me the first night we met . . . and those fingers were playing it for me again.

Melting, mellowed out high. I embraced it, letting myself get lost in the way his fingers moved over the frets, the way his voice filtered through the shadowy room.

The feelings that I had run from in Phoenix were still there, never really gone but buried instead, and I was lying to deny them to myself. Being so close to him again, the whisper of our attraction echoed in the space around us like words so soulful and sweet, resurfacing, clawing their way out of the compartment I'd shoved them into.

The last note hung in the air, reverberating, and he turned, gaze searching mine. Time seemed to slow as I leaned down to take his face in my hands. I closed my eyes and cut myself off from everything but the feel of his lips on mine, the gentle slip of his tongue into my mouth. We kissed for a moment, and then he broke away.

My eyes opened, and if I was expecting to see reproach, I was wrong. He put the guitar down, twisted until he was on his knees in front of me, and threaded his hands through my hair to pull me closer. This time it wasn't so soft, and my legs fell open to give him space to get closer.

He settled between my knees, chest touching mine, his hands resting on my thighs. He leaned in and placed his lips on the skin below my ear. "You don't know how often I've thought of you, how much I wanted to see you again," he whispered. "Somewhere. Anywhere." I shuddered from the wet rasp of his lips against the delicate skin of my neck, and turned my face to meet his again.

I couldn't get close enough, wanted so much more, but the kisses were intoxicating—the taste of whiskey and smoke on his breath. Our kiss became more urgent, his hands sliding up under my shirt to graze the sides of my breasts.

"I want you. I've thought of nothing else since I saw you that first night."

I sat back trembling, my hands holding the sides of his face, searching for something to tell me that I shouldn't do this. The ghost of a blonde haired woman crossed the room behind him and left just as quickly.

"Then have me," I whispered. He leaned in and kissed me as if he wanted to learn me all over again. Tuned in to him as I was, I barely noticed the thump as someone opened the basement door and started to make their way down the stairs.

"Damnit," he said, breaking away. We sprang apart and jumped up; I readjusted my shirt and looked around, flustered because we'd been caught.

That ghost seemed closer, and I silently prayed it wasn't _her. _

As the door flew open, Edward stepped in front of me, partially shielding me from view.

"Hey, Ed," said Tyler as he walked in the room. "What's up? I just…. Oh, sorry dude. You have company."

A little embarrassed I closed my eyes —at least I had my clothes on.

Peeking around Edward's shoulder I said, "Hey, Tyler."

He looked from Edward to me and back again and smiled. "Hey, Bella." The closer he got, the more noticeable the red glaze in his eyes and the familiar grin of inebriation became. He raised his hands, and began to back up. "Sorry I interrupted. I can come back later."

"No, not a problem, Ty," said Edward, reaching down to grab my fingers. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Aw, my ma kicked me out again, so I thought I'd crash here. That's cool, right?"

"Of course. It's your place, too."

"I just came down to jam a little. Got all kinds of things running through my head. Figured I'd better get 'em down while I can."

Edward seemed to relax. His posture changed, and he wrapped our joined hands around my waist, leaning in to me. "I finished the lyrics on the last song you did, you want?"

"That would be rad."

Edward walked over to where his notebook sat. He picked it up and thumbed through a few pages until he found what he wanted. He tore out the page and held it toward Tyler. "When you're through just put it in my case, all right?"

"Sure. Thanks. I'm really sorry I busted in."

Tyler bobbed his head, weaving a little, and I wondered how he'd got here when he was so wasted. I tried to glean cues from Edward as to whether this was a shock or something that happened more often, but he didn't seem all that concerned.

So, this wasn't a one-off, then.

"It's cool." Edward closed the notebook and tucked it under his arm. He turned to me. "Ready?"

"Yeah." I glanced at Tyler, worried about him some more. The guy seemed blitzed. "See you later, Tyler."

"Have a good night guys," he said as he moved to pick up his bass.

Edward grabbed my hand and we headed up the stairs.

Once in the car, he turned up the heat to ward off the chill. He reached over and rubbed my leg and when he looked at me that way, it was easy to forget about the interruption as he turned the car around to take me home.

Not so easy, however, was fighting off the guilt that began to settle in.

Some sane part of my brain wondered about a guy who would so easily cheat on his girlfriend—and the fact that I was more than willing to participate was a hard pill to swallow, as well—and what sort of person that made us both. Yet another part of my thoughts were centered on wondering what his motivation was for getting involved with me again.

It was impossible not to look at him and see a gorgeous musician, all talented and more than likely exposed to all sorts of temptations and invitations. Hell, it was probably like putting a kid in a candy store and telling him to go wild on it. Insecurity crept in, swift and crippling, and the weight of my actions tonight pressed on my shoulders.

And then he looked over at me and smiled, reaching to grab my hand. The smile was honest, so very real, and it lifted some of that weight and threw it into the backseat. I had to trust him, to see where this was heading, and hope that the little I knew of his character—the part I was insanely attracted to and got along so well with—was enough to build on. And I hoped against hope that, in the end, it would turn out the way it was meant to.

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you for all of your comments!_

_Song:_

_Jimi Hendrix – Little Wing_

_Nic? Outstanding. xoxoxo_


	6. Tender

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Tender

**Catch Phrase**: "What a difference a day makes"

-PoM-

After throwing off the tension from earlier, the car ride back to my apartment was much more relaxed. He didn't bring up the thing at the practice space and that was just fine with me. Instead we talked about our favorite places in the city—his were new to me, ones that I hoped he'd show me some time.

The end of the evening seemed to sneak up on me; before I knew it his car was idling in front of the curb of my building. I grasped the door handle with no desire to actually open it—and maybe, just maybe, he didn't want me to because he kept up the conversation like he had no place to be. I had no idea what any of this meant, but what I did know was it had been an amazing evening with an incredible guy . . . who wasn't mine.

"Well, this is me." I nodded at the front door. "So, thank you . . . again. I had a really great time."

"I'm glad you hung out tonight_."_

"Yeah." I turned to face him and blurted out, "We can't do that again."

He frowned, leaning back into his seat. "Where did that come from?"

I studied my nails. "I mean tonight. Not the concert, that's not what I meant, but what happened afterward. We can't do . . . that, not when you're with someone else."

He groaned and looked at the ceiling. "Look, I know it's an awkward situation, I get that, but I don't even need to think about it. I want to be with you."

"And what about Tanya?"

"Me and her . . . I swear, I'm done with that now."

The words were right—in one sense, sure, but they didn't exactly ease my qualms.

"I just don't feel right," I said after a moment's pause.

"Hey, look at me." I turned, taking in his straightforward expression. "I'll talk to her tomorrow, okay?"

I gave him a thin smile. That was better.

"This, _you, _are important to me."

My smile grew a little. Growing warmer . . .

"We okay?"

"Yeah."

He grinned and leaned over to kiss me again. "Can I walk you to the door?"

"I'd like that."

I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and turned to say goodnight, and then got sidetracked. Something told me our talk wasn't quite over yet; if the look on his face was an indicator, he had more to say that I wasn't sure I was ready to hear yet.

I reached up to touch his lips. "Don't. The night was perfect for me. Let's just leave it as it is."

We kissed lightly before I turned and opened the door, giving him a small wave as it closed.

Three flights of stairs later, I'd no sooner flipped on a light in my apartment and put my jacket down when the buzzer rang for the front door.

"Yes?"

"I didn't get to say goodnight."

I pulled my lower lip with my teeth and grinned into the intercom.

"Goodnight," I said, my fingers resting on the speaker. I could hear him still, breath kind of fast and loud, like he'd run up the front stoop. I waited for the silence that would announce he'd left but it didn't come.

"I don't want to leave."

I hesitated for only a moment before I pressed the buzzer to let him up.

-PoM-

A quick glance in the mirror that hung near our front door, a careful mussing of my hair, and a cleavage adjust later, I opened the door to find a winded Edward, hands on his knees and a smile on his face.

"Hel—oof."

His hands were on my face almost immediately, lips searing mine. Pulling him backwards into the apartment, I slung the door closed, my arms reaching around his back.

Frantic, consuming kisses made me giddy. We didn't even make it to the couch; I pulled him to the rug with me, tugging at his shirt. I wanted, no, _needed_ to feel his skin against mine. He took the cue and reached behind his shoulder blades to pull his shirt over his head.

He was lean, defined but not overtly so, body long and strong in that way that young guitar gods were apt to be. A small medallion looped through a leather cord swung back and forth and he lowered his body to rest on top of mine. Every lingering doubt was thrown to the wayside, much like my shirt and bra when he worked his hands between us and kissed the skin he exposed.

Lips on my breasts, my head thrown back because, damn, it felt better than I remembered. Teeth and mouth dragging over my neck, a spot I'd been particular to the last time—and he definitely remembered. The thought made me pull him closer, anticipation of having him inside again making me impatient.

The sensation of our skin together brought back a flood of memories of how I'd ached for his touch. As much as I had tried to imagine, nothing came close to feeling him again.

His hips ground into mine and I arched to meet him.

Through raspy, lust-heavy breaths, he asked, "Do you have condoms?"

"I . . . damn, that's good. Yeah, I think so." I disconnected, scooting across the floor to reach into the drawer on the coffee table where Rose kept a stash.

"If they're Emmett's, I don't want to know."

I giggled and rejoined him. "Then I won't tell you."

The condom got tossed onto the rug as he stood to remove his pants. I watched him unabashedly, cataloguing the new ink on his ribcage, the trail of hair on his stomach. Then he was back, near my feet and tugging at the cuffs of my jeans. I took the hint, unbuckled, and then lost my mind as he tugged me free and kissed his way up my legs to settle between my thighs.

"This is mine," he said and lightly nipped me through the cotton material. I moved against him, loving the feel of his scruff on the inside of my thighs.

His fingers hooked into the strings of my panties and he peeled them away until I was bare before him. Then he was all lips and fingers and tongue, slow and then fast, better and then best. My fingers curled into his hair, grabbing handfuls as he drove me insane. I writhed, needing away because it was too good, needing away because I'd rather have him inside.

"Get back here," he growled, dipping back and redoubling his efforts.

I screamed when I came, and had a passing thought that I hoped old Mrs. Grossman downstairs didn't have her windows open like I did.

"Holy . . . wow."

A moment later he was rolling the condom on and I closed my eyes, anticipating that moment when I'd feel him again. I opened my eyes to see him poised over me, his face full of lust and want; wrapping my hands over his shoulders, I tried to tug him toward me but was met with some resistance.

"Wha—oh, god."

Back and forth, slow and hard, he rubbed his tip against me, watching the way we looked. "Do you want this as much as I do?"

The teasing was enough to make my movements frantic. I clutched, I clawed, I wiggled my hips to make him just do it, already.

"Do you?"

"Yes, yes, I do."

"Tell me."

"Please," I whimpered.

"Oh, fuck," he said before he plunged into me. Absent was any tender moment. This was a culmination of pure need brought on by a gap we both needed to fill. He took me hard and fast and I urged him on. I loved how real this was, that we were here, in this, together.

Our bodies moved forward and back, slipping together in a primal dance. When he slammed into me one last time I tightened my legs around his back and took everything he had.

His weight was there, steady and comfortably heavy, as we both lie panting, damp and sweaty and still meshed together. He buried his head in my shoulder, slowly recovering his breath. After a few moments, he made a groaning sound that reverberated in my chest.

I laughed and combed my fingers through his hair. "That bad, huh?"

"The complete fucking opposite."

"Is that a compliment?"

He lifted his head." You'd better believe it," he said, planting a kiss on my collarbone. He moved slightly and grunted a little, probably as uncomfortable on the floor as me. "Do you have an actual bed in this place?"

"Sure do."

I moved to get up and pull the afghan off of the couch to cover myself, but he grabbed the edge of it and caused me to pause. I looked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't," he said.

I rolled my eyes. Getting naked together for sex was one thing; I pulled it close and wrapped it around my body before moving into the hall. I looked over my shoulder at him cheekily.

"Bathroom is there. And I'll be down here," I said pointing to the door at the end of the hall. Once in the bedroom, I pulled the covers back and dropped the blanket.

"Wait."

I looked over my shoulder and chuckled a bit—he was naked as the day he came, and I hoped Rose wouldn't show up by some miracle at an ungodly hour in the morning to find a mess on the living room floor.

He was watching me, too. "So beautiful."

"I could say the same. C'mon, my back needs this mattress right now."

He sauntered forward, lighting a cigarette I hadn't seen before. We nestled into the bed, sharing a smoke and body heat.

"I take it Rose won't be back?" he said into my hair.

"Shouldn't be. I mean, it's a possibility, but probably not tonight. When Emmett's not working or with the band, she stays there. I hardly ever see her except when she comes home to change clothes."

"Good, I get you all to myself," he said, tightening his arms around me and bending his head to place a kiss on top of mine.

I snuggled in a little deeper to his body. _This_ moment felt tender and true. I knew little of what the future held for us, but was content to be with him in the here and now.

-PoM-

_What a difference a day makes,_ I thought the next morning. Eggs and bacon were going on the stove, biscuits almost ready in the oven. It was domestic and silly, but when I was stressed I cooked, and this morning, when words and actions of the night before were still fresh and not as urgent, I was left doubting them.

"Something smells good." He buried his face in my neck.

"Coffee's over there," I said pointing with my spatula. I concentrated on the eggs, watching as they formed.

He hesitated in letting go of me before grabbing a cup. It was only when I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye did I notice he was only wearing his jeans. I admired his lean torso and the way his pants sat on his hip bones as he turned around and took a seat at the table.

I placed a plate in front of him and grabbed my own coffee before I sat down and joined him at the table.

"This looks great. Thanks."

"You're welcome." I took a small bite of my cheesy eggs. After we ate in silence for a few minutes, I said. "So again we find ourselves cocooned away from reality."

He grinned. "I kind of like it here."

"Me too. But there's a bigger issue to deal with this time. We need to talk about—"

"Tanya? Seriously, like I said last night—don't worry about it," he said adding pepper to his eggs.

Frustrated with this typical male response, I said, "I just don't want any trouble."

"And you won't have any. Look, I didn't want to go into this with you at all. But what I had with her was just a casual hookup. We were free to see other people. She made it into something more than it was, and I can't really help that."

I huffed. That was kind of a dick answer. The insensitivity didn't sit well with me. Neither did knowing I was sleeping with a guy who still had a girl out there who thought they were together. It made me feel wrong, like I was dishonest and we weren't getting off on a good foot.

As much as I liked him, and I really, really did, I wished this obstacle wasn't in our way—no matter how inconsequential he saw it as.

"Well, from what I heard, she seems to think it's more than that."

"But it's not. I told you I was done, and I am. I'm into you, Bella. Why does this have to be hard? I like you, and I think you like me. Can't we just go from there?"

"I just don't see this as being easy."

"Trust me, she'll just move on to someone else. She always does. Anyway, I think the guys have about had it with her and she just doesn't get the hint."

"And what makes you think she will now?"

"If I tell her, she will. Right now I just want to enjoy being with you. Okay?"

I agreed and changed the subject. The subject had been dissected enough and I could do my best to tuck away my insecurities. I had no idea how things would go down and figured I knew sooner or later I'd have to deal with the fall out. But if he was as into this as he said, having him to get my back would make it easier.

After our coffee and eggs, we spent the rest of the morning in the couch watching cartoons. Determined to let go a bit and enjoy him, I couldn't help but shift my hips a little right in his direction. Lying there and lazily watching Bugs Bunny did not mesh with having a hot rock god spooned to your backside.

"Oh, this could be good," he murmured.

I smiled. "My intentions are pure."

"Hell if they are, and I don't care. I think I'm becoming addicted to you."

His hand moved around to slide under my t-shirt, rubbing a hand up my side and back down to push off the boxers I'd slipped into this morning.

Knowing what I needed, I reached to the end table again.

"Remind me to thank Emmett," he said, voice muffled because he had already moved on to peppering my neck with kisses.

"Oh, I will."

He took that moment to slide into me and I arched back to accommodate him. Things were slow and easy now. When we drifted to sleep I didn't try and worry about anything besides the man behind me.

-PoM-

"What time is it?"

"Three."

He sat up quickly. "Shit. I told Jasper I'd meet him over at the recording studio to get things worked out for the demo."

I watched from my perch on the sofa as he darted around the room picking up various pieces of clothing.

He hopped on one foot trying to get a shoe on. "I'm sorry I have to bail." He stepped over and leaned down to kiss me. "What I would give to do this all day." He kissed me again. "Call you later?"

"I'll talk to you soon," I said reaching up to touch his cheek. I watched as he left my apartment, and immediately felt the loss.

* * *

_I bet you can imagine how hard it was to write this one at work…_

_If I think – Mudhoney_

_Much thanks to Nic – you rock._


	7. Coil

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompts:** coil, foil

-PoM-

With nothing to do and nowhere I had to be, the rest of my day was a lazy one spent parked on the couch and in front of the television. I couldn't even begin to motivate myself to get up, not when the delicious feeling that filled my body—that leftover feeling of hours of incredible sex—made me want to veg out for the rest of the night.

The sun that had filtered in an out all day was just beginning to bid adieu when Rose came bursting through the door, all excitable and . . . not conducive to my plans of doing nothing. I looked up from the weekly edition of _The Rocket _as she halted next to the couch.

Hands on her hips, she took one look at me and shook her head. "Nope, not doing this. Come out with me tonight."

I continued flipping through the pages, scanning over the articles. "Hi, Bella. How are you Bella? It's so nice to see you, Bella."

"I can see you're fine. Come with me and listen to Em play tonight. He hooked up with a few guys from Vertical Fish for a private party."

I glanced at my boxers, the ratty t-shirt, my thick socks. "Clearly I'm not dressed to go out. Besides, I'm kind of tired."

"Really?" she said, drawing it out. She cocked her head and looked at me closely. "How was the concert?"

I gave her he best grin I had. "Amazing."

"Hmm. And Edward?"

I looked down and kept thumbing through the pages slowly, trying (unsuccessfully) to knock it off with the cheesy smile. "He just left a little while ago."

"No wonder you look all googly eyed; can't keep that just-got-laid off of your face, can ya?" She hovered over the other side of the sofa. "Is it safe right here?"

"Yes!" I said and hucked the magazine at her—she caught it easily, the brat. "You're one to talk, jerk. You keep condoms in the coffee table, for chrissake."

"Gotta be safe these days." She took a seat and pulled open the table drawer. "Hey, did you raid my stash? You're buying more if you did. Just make sure to get the big ones."

"You're disgusting."

"No, I'm honest. So, I take it the bitch is out of the picture?"

I sighed, looking down at the afghan wrapped around my shoulders. _Here we go . . ._ "Uh, not yet."

"What the hell? What is going on inside your head, girl? I mean, he's a looker, whatever, but that is _not _you, Bella."

"Edward told me he's going to take care of it and I have to trust him."

"Good luck with that."

"That sounds ominous. Thanks." I tried to tamp down the insecurities, I did, but they still hovered at the edge of my thoughts, and her words made them burn a little brighter.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. I'm not saying Edward's not trustworthy—I mean, from what I've seen he's a good guy—typical band guy, ya know? But, Tanya? She's another story."

"Ugh," I groaned, leaning my head on the back of the couch. "That's exactly what I said to him and he said not to worry about her. What do you know that I don't?"

She leaned back into the couch, threw her legs over mine. "I don't know. Whenever I saw them out together, she was all over him, right?"

My stomach didn't like where this was going. "Okay? Ugh, I don't even want a visual of that in my head."

"Sorta like at practice the other night. You were there, you saw it. She hangs on him, all touchy-feely-look-at-me-with-my-up-and-coming-man. But he's not really like that. He was cool to her and stuff, not a dick or anything, but the PDA isn't his strong point. I think that they started off because it was convenient. And I think she's going to raise hell about getting dumped."

I had to admit that made me feel a little better—well, the first part did. The part about Tanya raising hell wasn't good. I wasn't a fighter, didn't have a lot of oomph to stand up for myself sometimes. Joy.

She gathered her hair into a knot on top of her head that had a snowball's chance in hell of staying that way. "Like I said, I think he's a good guy. If I didn't I would be telling you to cut your losses and run away, but I'm not. I just don't want to see you get in the middle of something nasty or get your feelings hurt. He's kind of big on the local scene, girl. There's always gonna be starfuckers around and you're going to have to deal with them."

"That's what I hate about this. I have to share."

"No. You don't. You never _ever_ have to put up with something that makes you uncomfortable. If he's a good guy, he'll go out of his way to make sure you don't even start your mind down that road." She put a hand on my leg. "Look, you're a big girl. You have a little history with the guy. Just go with it. It might fly, it might not."

"I know."

"Enough with the heartfelt. Get your ass up and into the shower because we_ are_ heading downtown."

Regardless how things might have changed a little, I still hated going to band nights just to hang out—I wanted to listen to music without the stuffy venues and overeager band groupies. On the other hand, though, it was a chance to listen to something new. The thought of Edward and me at the concert last night made me smile. I needed to get over it.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be ready in a little bit." I smiled at her, thanking her for the talk I'd needed all day.

An hour or so later I was ready to go. To make myself feel better I'd raided Rose's makeup stash and fixed my hair. Put on clothes that fit instead of sagged. I grabbed a bag and stuffed my wallet and smokes inside, and headed out to the living room.

"You look great," she said. "Looks like a little shag did ya some good."

I shook my head in exasperation. "Always with the honesty. Let's go."

-PoM-

We arrived early at RKCNDY just in time to catch Emmett before they went on. I liked it there. The club was cleaner than some of the others and the acoustics were better than most. It was funny, though, that all of the bars we hung out at could never quite get rid of the sticky floor.

Em was up on the stage coiling a long cord. He came over to the edge and squatted down to talk to us. "Hey, guys. Glad you came down. Show should be balls out tonight."

Rose placed her hand on his knee. "I could barely get her ass out of the house. She was _recovering_," she said, waving her hand in front of her face, "from her night with Cullen."

"Rose!" I said, hitting her on the arm with the back of my hand.

Emmett looked at me and nodded his head. "Nice. Where is Lover Boy?"

"He was with Jasper this afternoon."

"Oh, shit, that's right. I hope they got everything set up because I can't ask for any more time off work. Either I'll get fired or have to quit."

Rose squeezed his knee. "Things will work out, babe. I just know it. If not, I'll go down there and kick some ass."

He laughed, falling back onto his butt and winking at me. "Maybe she should be our manager. Talk to her for me—you she'll listen to. They wouldn't know what hit 'em."

Rose scoffed. "Nah, I'd probably just get you into trouble." She turned to me. "Want a drink?"

"Sure. A beer, por favor."

"Hey we're going to start here shortly." He stood up, ruffled Rose's hair, to which she scowled at. "See you in a bit?"

"Yup. Kick ass."

She headed for the bar as Emmett stood up and headed behind his drum set. I recognized two other guys from Fish but I didn't know the fourth one. I nodded at them, flashed a thumbs up, and went to find a spot on the edge of the floor—always the best because you could see the stage without getting squashed and the wall made for handy leaning when the band wasn't that good.

Being a private show, the crowd was made up of amped up friends and whatnot, some local producers and magazine 'journos. The band began to play and Emmett was a highlight—his style was adaptable, and the band's sound, eighties twang edged out with a raw, pure kick, seemed to breathe some fun into him. I laughed more than once at his thrashing, cackled when he stood and posed like Superman in the middle of a bass solo.

As with any local show, though, the mosh pit was getting out of hand. I marveled at the girls throwing themselves into the throng, winced when they crowd surfed and had hands put places they didn't need to be. I moved back to get out of the way.

It occurred to me that Rose was taking forever with the drinks, so I tried to peer around the melee to see if she was still at the bar, but just as I did I was tugged by my waist and spun into a group of speakers.

"What the—"

A kiss on my neck, scruff and heat and so, so familiar. I giggled.

"I didn't know you'd be here!" I shouted over the music, forcing him back and away from the wall of sound. We ended up near the tables, and I twisted to say hello more fully. I'd only meant for it to be a quick kiss, but he wasn't having any of that . . . and that was fine by me.

Eventually we got bumped into and had to separate.

He leaned down until his lips were at my ear. "You didn't tell me you were coming down."

"Rose made me."

"Ah, I see" he said, nuzzling the side of my jaw. "So you're surprised then?"

"Pleasantly so." He bent his head and kissed me once, then pulled me into his side to watch the band. I put my fingers in his back pocket and snuggled right in.

. . . And Rose had said he wasn't big on PDAs. Huh.

"God damn heathens! Some asshole spilled a beer on my shoes."

I peered around Edward, took the proffered beer from Rose's hands. "I wondered what happened to you. Em's sick tonight!"

"I could hear him," she shouted, and then her face turned all evil-like.

With dismay, I watched as she tugged at Edward's shirt until he bent down to hear whatever she was trying to say. His expression went from amused to contemplative, and then he just looked downright shocked. She glanced up at him one more time, nodded once, and then turned to the guy standing next to her and struck up a conversation.

After the song ended, I tugged him down to me. "What did she say?"

He smiled. "That she liked you a lot, and that she knew someone who'd rip off my balls so she could shove them down my throat if I hurt you."

Surprised but not, I laughed. "That's Rose."

"Well, she foiled my dastardly plan," he said, grabbing me and biting me on my neck. I squirmed to get away because he needed a shave and it tickled.

The next song began and he pulled me in front of him, his chin resting lightly on my head and his arms solid around me; as much as I disliked shows in venues like this, if I got to see them this way . . . well, I might enjoy it a lot more.

"What the fuck is this?"

The screech was loud and harsh, and totally pissed off. I turned to my right and there stood Tanya, all decked out in tight leggings and a leather jacket like she belonged inside a hair band's bus rather than here in this crowd.

Edward straightened, loosening his grip on me but not letting go, thankfully.

I swallowed the sip of beer I'd just taken and glanced at Rose. Her face was comical, mouth frozen open and eyes wide.

"Who is she?" Tanya demanded. She stepped closer, too much so, really, and started poking her finger into his chest. "Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Who's the fucking skank, Edward?"

He grabbed her finger and took a step back, dragging me with him. "Tanya, now's not the time."

He looked angry, probably because she was making a scene, and I waited for her to start railing on him again, but she yanked her fist out of his grip and rounded on me. "I don't know who you think you are, but that's my—"

"That's enough! You leave her out of this."

She glanced back at him, still too close to me for me to not feel like I was about to get punched out. "Why would you bring someone here? We _always_ come here together."

Even over the music, which had made conversations near to impossible, I was sure she could be heard by all around us. My stomach rolled uncomfortably. I did _not _want to be in the middle of this, though deep down I knew I was at blame here, too. I disentangled myself from Edward's grasp and started to back up toward Rose. He'd also said he'd deal with this earlier, and he clearly hadn't, so it was up to him now.

My arm was yanked back and my beer sloshed out of my bottle, coating the side of my shirt and my hair in thick yellow foam. "Hey—" I said, but then I was free.

"Back off, bitch." Rose, her hand curled around Tanya's wrist, had joined the conversation. The crowd was now watching us instead of the band, and for that I truly felt terrible. The girl that was with Tanya last week was standing right behind her, and from the look on her face, she didn't want to be there, either.

Edward gave me an apologetic look and said he'd be right back before he took Tanya by the elbow and wheeled her around toward the fire exit door.

"Holy shit," Rose said loudly, "That was like, a 90210 worthy drama scene. Jesus, people," she raised her voice, "Watch the band!"

From where we were standing we had a direct line of sight to Edward and Tanya's talk, and it didn't look promising. He was trying to keep his cool while she screeched like a banshee. There were a couple of more words exchanged before he held up his hands, clearly waiting for an answer, and she dropped her head like she was about to cry.

"I'm such an asshole," I said, glancing at Rose. "If I'd have just waited . . ."

"One way or another it was going to happen," she assured me.

Over in the corner, Edward looked frustrated. He said something else, turned on his heel, and headed back to where we were standing. She started to follow and Rose took off like a shot, intercepting her. It looked like Rose had a few choice words for the girl, and Tanya turned to leave.

. . . But not before catching my gaze on her. Hurt and hate and malice glittered in her eyes, and all I could do was stare back because she had a right to them.

Canned music suddenly blasted from the speakers, and I wheeled around to the stage to see that the guys were taking a break. Emmett hopped off the stage and made a beeline for our group.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. "Rose, that was hot!"

Edward touched my shoulder. "You all right? I am so fucking sorry about that."

I pulled at my sticky shirt and wrinkled my nose at the scent of beer that clung to it. "I think I'm just going to go."

"Don't worry about her. She's gone."

I turned my attention to Rose. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing I want to repeat. Do you really want to leave?"

Edward jumped in, "If you want to go, I'll take you."

I looked into his face and I could see the regret in his eyes. I was mad, but not at him, not really. He'd made a bad call and was paying for it. And we'd been found out—maybe if we'd handled this better it could have been avoided, but we hadn't and that was that. Nothing left but to owe up to it and move on, I hoped.

I sighed and moved to stand close to him. "Yeah. Let's just go."

Rose gave me a hug. "See you later."

"Bye. Thanks for sticking up for me. Someday I'll be as cool as you are."

"You're cool right now, chick. I'm just a hothead."

I laughed. "See ya."

Edward was talking to Emmett so I slung my bag over my shoulder and moved to stand beside him. Em, who I was coming to learn was just a happy, jokey sort of guy, gave us a little shit and then grabbed Rose to head to the bar, and we left.

Cool September air waited for us outside, and I glanced around the sidewalk half expecting Tanya to be lurking around waiting to finish me off. She was nowhere to be seen, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"God, I hate that shit," I said. My shirt was drenched and I was going to be cold, and a good night had turned miserable. I blinked back tears of frustration and concentrated on my feet.

"Hey," Edward said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the warmth of his body. "Stop that. It's not your fault, Bella. I'm sorry it went down that way and you had to be there to see it. Jasper and I got so caught up down at the Dutchman getting the session set up that I didn't have time to call her."

"I just need to get to my happy place so I can calm down."

He looked at me and grinned devilishly.

I laughed. Pervert. "Well, there's always that, too, but I want to do something just to get my mind off of all of this."

He didn't hesitate, grabbed my hand and led me to his car. "I think I have an idea."

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you so much for your encouraging words._

_Song: Hole – Doll Parts_

_Thank you, Nic xo_


	8. Bottle

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Bottle

**Scenario**: Write a piece based upon the best advice you've ever received.

-PoM-

"Right there. No, over to the left a little. Getting warmer . . ."

"Just tell me where it is!"

"You'll know it when you feel it."

And that was it—that one made me cackle. "Really?" My hands flicked through the rack of CDs in front of me. L. L Cool J.; L7; Leadbelly. "It's so awesome I'll just _feel_ it?_" _

I had to admit that Edward's idea for blowing off steam after the scene at the club was a pretty good one. Apparently he liked to play guessing games in Tower Records, and I was currently browsing the L section trying to figure out what his 'all time favorite make-out album' was. It was genius because A: the store was open late, and B: I loved this place and he'd done a great job on choosing something that would ease some of the stress.

"It's pretty damn good," he said, all smug and sure of himself.

And then I spotted it, and it was so obvious I should have already guessed it. "Got it." I said, spinning around. "Led Zepplin, IV, and I'm going to go more specific and say _Stairway to Heaven _is what you start off with."

He cocked his head, studying me, and then nodded. "Damn you're good."

"Easy one. Screams boy and teenage seduction methods. Slightly poetic with a gradual move toward climax. Add in that any music person will easily list Zep as one of, if not the top band, to influence metal and rock, and it's a shoo-in."

"Did all of that really just come out of your brain or did you read that in Rolling Stone and you're simply regurgitating words?"

I continued down the row, dragging my fingers over the stacks of CDs. "If you must know, I read, listen to, and formulate my own opinions about things."

Right then, it didn't matter that I smelled like Eau de Beer. Or that the flannel Edward had lent me was warm and soft and considerably drier than the ruined shirt I wore underneath. Or that he was being a pest because I'd beat him at his own game. I was surrounded by music and talking about it, something I'd loved ever since I was little and my mom listened to The Eagles nonstop. I took a deep breath and turned, joy on my face.

"Believe it or not, I have tons of thoughts written down in journals about the music I like. I don't usually go back and read them because I know the words already, but I save them for reference anyway."

"I see a music critic in the making," he said as I turned to head into the next aisle.

"Doubtful. I just know what I like and what I don't. Music is subjective—people get what they want from certain song lyrics that another person without the same experience might not see."

Seeing as he was sharing favorites with me, I meandered my way down toward the end of the alphabet, stopping to look through random stacks along the way.

"This is a good one," I said, holding up a Screaming Trees album.

He moved to look over my shoulder, hummed his assent, and then his arms were around me, chin on my shoulder and lips on my jaw. "I am sorry, you know."

I threaded my hands through his, rested them on my stomach. I pulled him along behind me, not caring that I was walking like a duck to get his feet to move. "I know you are. And you gained back major points by bringing me here. Aha. There it is."

"What?"

"Your turn. One of my favorite CDs ever is in this section. Find it, and I might kiss you again."

"Mighty high stakes there, Bella. Guess I better take this pretty seriously, huh?"

"Yep." I turned around and sorted through the soundtrack section on the opposite side of the aisle, giving him time to figure it out on his own.

"Okay," he said a few minutes later. "If I'm right, then we need to have a talk because I think you might be my dream girl."

He was just being silly, now, but the words settled themselves around me all the same. I turned, leaning my hip against the bin and held my hand out for his guess. "Nice job. I love these guys—I don't think it's possible to have too much of them in your collection. "

"The Femmes, huh? Yep, you're meant for me, Bella. Do you know that my tastes leaned toward punk music rather than the stuff they were dishing out on MTV? I mean until I graduated to metal."

"Ooh. Like Poison?"

"Bite your tongue, woman. Try Megadeth or Anthrax." He grabbed a CD randomly and held it up. "First thoughts."

"Haunting and lyrical."

He nodded his head appreciatively. "Next."

"Pounding metal that vibrates your soul."

"Hmm. This one."

"Mommy issues."

He laughed and sat the stack down. "You should do this for a living. You really do know your stuff. Albums have overall vibes, and you get that."

"No. Music critics are a self-aggrandizing, hypocritical group of guys."

"That's a strong opinion."

"And one I generally keep to myself."

Looking down, started to search the rows of CDS again for something to buy. He already had a stack of picks in his hand, and so far my hands held one. He came up and leaned on the bin next to me.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" I made a face at one of the latest pop hits in the new releases section and groaned. What were people thinking buying this canned, generic . . . crap?

"I know that you're still a little pissed about what happened tonight. You can say you aren't, but you also keep blowing off my apologies."

That was true—but probably not for the reasons he was thinking. I felt at blame for the thing with Tanya, too. I'd known about her and went ahead with hooking up with Edward anyway, and that was a tough pill to swallow. But I also didn't want to be told my feelings were wrong because they weren't serious or whatever other explanation was convenient.

"I don't really want to talk about it at all right now. It happened, but I wish we could start over. Like, completely. I would have never run from you in the first place. It's like we've jumped all of the important steps of just getting to know each other first."

"I can see that," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back toward the middle of the store. "But I want you to know that it's gonna be all right. It's probably not going to be easy all the time, but me and you? We'll be cool if we just worry about ourselves."

I didn't look up at him; instead I grabbed an Eagles CD because my mom was on my mind now. He reached over and gently pulled my face around so he could look into my eyes.

"I mean it. You're . . . different, okay? There's something about you that I really dig, and I'd like to take to see where that leads us."

"What you're saying, it's great, really. I just wish it hadn't happened like that. I felt bad for her."

"Best advice someone ever gave me was that when you make a mistake, you do your best to move forward. You can't change what already happened; all you can do is work with what's here right now. Good or bad, you have to keep going."

"I like that," I said, smiling a bit. "Wise words."

"I know some people, and not all of them are fuckups." He laughed, and then glanced up. "How about we call this our 'official' first date and go from there."

I laughed. "Sure. I'd like that."

"We're getting the evil eye, I think." It was only then that I noticed a kid with a black polo and a lanyard around his neck watching us like a wary dog; I glanced at my watch, realized the employees might have wanted to close down the store.

"He looks like he could take you," I joked. "Better get our things and go."

-PoM-

It was late when we got back to my apartment. The blankets and half-eaten pizza I'd ordered out for earlier were still dotted around the room; the stacks of magazines were on the coffee table, too, next to a half empty bottle of Pepsi.

"Sorry for the mess, I was pretty lazy this afternoon."

"I'm jealous. Wish I could have been here with you."

"That would have been nice."

He handed me the bag containing our purchases. I went toward the stereo and put on _The La's_, an album I'd been dying to hear.

"Oh, I think I'm going to like this," I said, turning the jewel case over. I brought it with me and settled into Edward on the couch.

He, on the other hand, had other ideas. First it was my hair being brushed off my neck. The kissing of said neck started—he definitely knew how to get me worked up, and I didn't think it was altogether fair when I didn't really know any of his tells. The liner notes in my hands fluttered to the floor, all but forgotten as I stretched like a content cat and tilted my head.

"Mmm. This is more like a third date."

He laughed. "Did you forget your part of the bet? I guessed your favorite, now you have to kiss me."

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten all about that," I teased.

He stopped for a moment. "You're a cold, cold woman, Bella."

Still, he leaned into kiss me and I happily kissed him back.

"Is it stupid to feel this happy?"

"Not at all." He brushed his knuckles on my cheek. "Are you working Monday?"

"Yep. This is my last week of morning shift before school starts again."

"When do you get off?"

"Four."

"You should come down to the recording session."

I pulled back, trying to see if he was serious. He was.

"I don't know . . . Wouldn't I just be in the way?"

"Yeah right. I'd really like you to come hear my stuff." When he asked like that, there was no way I'd say no.

"What time?"

"We'll be set up and ready to go by three."

"I'd have to meet you there. It won't be too late?"

"Probably not. We're booked in the room until midnight. And Rose will be there—you'll be the only two allowed in."

"Wow. I feel important."

"You are," he said, maneuvering me until I was horizontal and he hovered overtop.

-PoM-

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Song: American Music—Violent Femmes _

_There She Goes – The La's _

_Dumb – Nirvana_


	9. Sway

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt:** Sway

**Plot Generator—Phrase Catch**: Take it to the limit.

-PoM-

The clock seemed to go backward as I paced behind the register and waited for my shift to come to a close. The money in the till was already bankfaced and neatly paper clipped in stacks by denomination so that, when the time came, I would be out of there quick.

"Hey, Bella. How were the sales this morning?"

Mike, the assistant manager of the small downtown store I worked at on Capitol Hill, came out of the door to the stockroom, clipboard in hand. He was an okay guy, but as a boss he kind of sucked—he was too flirty, and in that obnoxious sort of way that irked me. I'd lost count of the times I'd made an excuse to leave when he wanted to 'hang out' after work.

"It was kind of slow but I have my deposit ready. Can you count me out?"

"There a fire? It's not like you have anything to do."

Funny, he was not.

"Actually, I have something where I need to be at . . . soon."

"You know, I could really use some help with stocking tonight, we just got another big load in. It'll mean some overtime."

The extra money would be nice, especially with school starting soon. There'd be fewer chances to grab extra hours, but I wouldn't miss Edward's session tonight for anything. Not when he'd said it was important for me to be there. My heart fluttered like a hummingbird in my chest every time I thought about that conversation.

"Normally, I would. But tonight, I just can't. Sorry. "

"Sure," he said, all flippant disbelief. "Suit yourself."

As soon as he'd counted my drawer down and I'd signed off on it I was out of the store like a shot. The city streets were already starting to fill with end-of-the-day traffic and I had to make it just south of downtown to where the Dutchman was located. I'd been passing the place since I'd been in Seattle, but it wasn't until recently that Rose had told me what it really was. From the outside it resembled a giant warehouse huddled underneath one of the freeway overpasses . . . or maybe a bar; I had never been quite sure.

It took me twenty minutes to get there, and when I finally did the only car I recognized was Edward's. The cars rushing by overhead made the sign over the door sway back and forth, and I glanced around for Rose's car to no avail. "Okay then," I said out loud. Guess she wasn't there yet.

The inside of the building was almost as confusing as the outside. Music, muted and distorted, drifted down the hallway from somewhere, but there were so many doors to choose from I couldn't be sure which one I was supposed to go through. Pausing in the doorway, I tried to decide which to choose first.

"Bella!"

I glanced around, spotted a familiar face. "Tyler. Hey, what's up? You guys on break?"

"No. Ed and Jasper are laying down some tracks right now. I was just headed out for some smoke."

"Oh, gotcha. So, this is kind of weird, huh? Not what I expected of a recording studio. All of these rooms . . ."

"Well, it's more like a practice place for bands who rent out the space. The guy who owns it has a small studio in the back. Cool guy, and he's tight with Jasper so he's helping us cut a polished demo."

"Oh, that's awesome. Before you go, can you point me in the right direction?"

He grinned, and I realized that I liked this strange, quirky guy. He just seemed . . . nice. Simple, easygoing, just plain nice. "Nah, I'll just walk you back."

"I thought you were going to go outside?"

"I can do that in a few. Besides," he grinned and produced a pen. "I've got my smokeless with me today. C'mon, I'll take you back. "

I nodded and followed him, watching the pen that was really a pipe as I did. Personally I preferred a straight up joint when I smoked—it wasn't so harsh on the lungs, but to each their own I guessed.

The further down the hallway we got the louder the music seemed. He led me through a green door and I walked in behind him, trying to keep quiet so as to not disturb. There was a guy sitting at a sound board, smaller than I imagined, watching Edward and Jasper through the glass; he barely looked our way.

It was a dark place, padded walls and low lights, and inside the booth Edward and Jasper stood facing each other and completely engulfed in the music. It was more acoustical than anything I heard them play that night at the band house, and something about the way it sounded seemed to settle in my bones. Edward, head slightly bent, was an attractive sight as he worked his part.

But, more than that, together Edward and Jasper were magic. I hadn't really noticed it that first night, not with the way I was so wrapped up in seeing Edward again, but they were compelling me to pay attention now.

I grabbed Tyler's arm, waiting until he bent his ear down to me. "Damn, that's incredible. I didn't know they played off each other so well."

"Yeah, they're really fucking good, man. Edward's taken some of the stuff I've done and made it just masterful. It rocks, right?"

Not wanting to get in the way, I grabbed a seat on a beat-up looking couch and glanced around the room where we were. Tyler settled beside me and whispered explanations on the various pieces of equipment, what their function was and what capabilities each had, and I kind of wanted to hug him for staying with me instead of heading out to toke up.

There was a notebook laying on the table next to the board, obviously well loved because the thing look like it'd been through the wringer. Tyler must have noticed where I was looking because he snickered and poked my arm.

"You know, most of that is about you."

I snapped my head toward him, "What?"

"All that, in there? That stuff, man, is from here." He bumped his fist gently on his chest. "You're his muse."

All I could do was nod.

The thought completely overwhelmed me. Now that I knew what it was, I remembered the notebook from the time Edward and I had gone out to coffee. He'd been writing in it that day, but I hadn't paid it much mind. The curled pages tempted me in the worst way—thoughts and things about me were in there, and the part of me that was all things feminine and nosey wanted to know what they said, what clues I could glean from them.

The music stopped then and I glanced up from the lyric book. Edward and Jasper stood quietly chatting while the sound guy—Eric, I reminded myself—worked on playback.

"I'm gonna head out for a minute."

"Okay," I said absently.

Eric spoke into a microphone and said he "had it down", and Edward finally looked in my direction. He smiled, so big and heart-stopping, and then sat his guitar down and headed for the door between the two sections. Jasper mirrored his actions, but with a decidedly less . . . inviting demeanor.

"Hey, gorgeous," Edward said as he pulled me into an embrace. "Glad you're here."

"That sounded great," I said, hugging him back.

"C'mon, there's people I want you to meet." He pulled me behind him to where Eric and Jasper were talking, waited for them to stop. "Hey, Jas, I don't think you have been formally introduced, but this is Bella. Bella, this is Jasper and Eric. He owns the building."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Eric.

Jasper just scowled, and that my presence made him act that way made me uncomfortable. I leaned in to Edward's side and tried not to show my unease on my face.

Edward grabbed my hand. "We're going duck out for a smoke."

"Where's Rose?" I asked once we were in the hallway.

"Emmett couldn't get off early and she went to pick him up. Looks like we're going to be here most of the night."

"Good thing I penciled you in then, huh?"

He laughed and opened the door for me. I'd just lit my cigarette when Rose's red mustang swung into a parking spot. Emmett jumped out immediately with a case of beer; she followed at a slower pace with a case of her own.

"The party's here!" said Emmett as he crossed the road with Rose traipsing behind him. When she got to me she muttered, "And even this wasn't going to be enough beer."

I chuckled as I took a drag on my smoke. Edward leaned over and I put it to his lips.

"Oh, how cute," said Rose, mocking.

"Hush it," I said.

"Here, let me take that," offered Edward. He and Emmett disappeared inside.

"Mind waiting for me to finish?" I asked, holding up my cigarette.

"Go ahead. When did you get here?"

"Only about a half an hour ago. Took forever to get across town," I said. "Edward and Jasper were playing something and then we came outside for a smoke."

"I'm sure Jasper is in an excellent mood considering Emmett wasn't here at the designated start time."

"Oh, is that what it is? I thought he was pissed because I was here."

"That guy is always pissed off about something. Don't worry; it's probably not about you. He's so damn serious about making this band the next big thing that he can be a prick about it. In fact, he is a prick."

"Tell me how you really feel."

"Just being honest, baby. You about done, 'cause I'm freezing my ass off."

"Yeah. C'mon, I'll show you the way."

We made our way back to the room where all of the guys were wearing their instruments and ready. Rose, ever the boss, walked in and stood right next to Eric like she was supervising the whole thing. I grabbed my seat on the couch again and watched them get situated. Both Tyler and Emmett were knocking back a beer and the familiar bottle of JD was sitting close to Edward on the floor next to his amp. Jasper, who I personally thought looked like he could use a stiff drink to loosen up, was guzzling from a can of soda.

"You guys wanna give me a warm up so I can set the levels?" Eric asked through the intercom.

Jasper nodded and turned to the rest of the band to give instructions. Em, still in his delivery uniform, hit a few riffs on his drum kit and shouted, "Fuck yeah, I'm ready to take it to the limit!" Tyler lost it, doubled over laughing, and Jasper shot him a look that settled him down eventually.

"One, two . . ."

They broke into a cover until they were warmed up enough, and then the music was new and wonderful, and I settled further into the couch and got lost in the sounds and the way each of them settled into their rhythmic element.

As a whole they were a killer foursome. Emmett was a wild man, easily the most showy; Jasper's guitar playing was topnotch, providing solos that were perfect, not too outrageous but impressive for their edge; Tyler was, perhaps, the most talented of them all— thrum that was the heartbeat; and Edward was so fucking made for this—he gave me chills and not just because I was so into him. Regardless that Jasper was in charge, Edward took front and center as if was his second nature.

His guitar was around his neck but forgotten as both of his hands grabbed the mic and he closed his eyes, growling the lyrics while nodding his head. His voice was so unique that I really and truly absorbed what the lyrics were about. Missing was a copycat of any other band out there right then and making it big. What came out of these guys was pure and true to rock and roll.

Their session went on for hours with a few breaks here and there, but only for a smoke or a drink or to discuss the next song. At one point, when we all stood outside huddled together for warmth, I let him know I'd need to cut out early because they were discussing going in to the wee hours of the morning.

"You sure?" he asked, all grabby hands on my hips.

Loving the feel of him, I leaned in and kissed his neck. "Mmm, yeah. I'm beat and I don't want to drive across town like a zombie. I can stay for a few more."

As the night had progressed I'd found myself listening to the words of the songs, wondering if it was one of Edward's or one of Tyler's, and trying to guess which lyrics, if any, were about me. That notebook had become an obsession quickly, and once or twice a turn of phrase made me close my eyes because it felt like maybe, just maybe, I knew what it was about.

"Okay. I'm glad you came tonight, though. I like having you around when I play."

"I like watching you play. You guys are special, I think. I'm excited for you."

He kissed my hair. "Big words from the resident critic."

A little later, when I was grabbing my things to go and waving at Edward through the window, Rose grabbed me for a hug goodbye. "Fucking told you, didn't I?"

Still keeping my focus on Edward I nodded. He'd let his scruff grow in a little more, making his jaw line more noticeable. As I watched him, I began to understand—this was what being a groupie felt like. If he wasn't already mine, I would have done anything to have a piece of him, to consume him right there.

-PoM-

* * *

_I took a little license with the 'Dutchman' as I might with other venues in the story._

_Thank you so much for reading!_

_Song – Why Go – Pearl Jam_


	10. Dreary

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Dreary

-PoM-

Heavy mist hung in the air over Lake Union, lending a dreary feel to the mid-morning light filtering through my bedroom curtains. I dressed quietly, opening and closing drawers carefully so I wouldn't wake up the man sleeping face-down and barely covered in my bed.

Still, though, I couldn't help but stop to admire the planes of his back, the brash red and black tattoo that covered the top of his shoulders and wrapped down to the middle of his spine. My fingers twitched to touch, to run my fingers over the looping design, but if he woke up I wouldn't have the nerve to leave—and my morning class was due to start soon.

Huffing at responsibility foiling my desire, I went to grab my scarf off of the chair.

"Hey." The voice was raspy, whiskey soaked from the night before and adorably sleepy.

"Shoot. Sorry, did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet."

"I would have been more pissed if you didn't say goodbye."

I set my things down and crawled on to the edge of the bed to give him a proper goodbye, but his hand snaked out from under his head and grabbed me, toppling me over. He rolled until I was on my back and pinned me down.

"Hey!" I shouted, but didn't really protest when his head burrowed into my neck and settled there. "I'm gonna be late."

"Don't care," he said.

His lips feathered over my pulse point, and I groaned. "Don't start, I have to go. Besides, you probably won't even be up until I get back from work."

"As much as I'd like to stay here, I have shit to do. We're gonna go set up early for the show tonight. You're coming, right?" Edward laid his head on my chest and wrapped his arms around me tighter.

I ran my fingers through his hair. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

"All right," He started to move off of me but copped a feel before I could move.

"Pervert."

"Always for you."

I got up from out underneath him and stood on the side of my bed straightening my clothes. He reached up to grab my fingers and swung our hands back and forth. He was affectionate normally, but this sleepy side of him was the one I really, really liked. It was sweet, more playful than normal, and I loved waking up to him. I watched our hands and then sighed, looking back at his face. The green of his eyes seemed a little duller this morning, red rimmed from a night of practice.

"Have a good day."

"I will." I leaned down to kiss him on the lips. "I'll see you tonight."

-PoM-

I liked Fridays because I only had one early class and afterward I usually worked a short shift at the store. It always felt like a decent start to the weekend: not too rushed, not too boring, and by the time things were getting started I was ready to join the fun.

The mist from this morning had turned into rain, and my windshield wipers were in desperate need of a replacement. I wondered idly if Edward knew how, and then laughed that off. Frontman extraordinaire, most definitely, but handyman he was not. Just thinking about him (which, honestly, I did ninety-nine percent of the time nowadays) made my stomach purr, a happy cat batting at her favorite toy.

The past three months had been both a learning experience and much, much better than I expected. He'd been devoted, completely true to his word, and while we sometimes didn't get to see as much of each other as I would like, he gave me his free time. Of course, I knew the band was a huge priority. He and the guys were trying to make a living at it and I supported it one-hundred percent of the way.

It was exciting to watch things progress for them. Slowly, things were building for them: The demo, cut and polished in about a month, was getting some airplay on one of the local radio programs; shows were more frequent, and the band had developed a decent local following. I couldn't go to as many of them as I had in the beginning, not with school that I needed to stay on track for and picking up hours when I could, but Rose did, and she was enthusiastic about the future.

Two months ago, maybe that would have worried me. The shows had their fair share of female attendees, and some of them were purely there for the guys, but now I didn't worry about him and the girls. It was just part of the life, the appeal of a rock band. I felt confident enough in what we had developed that I knew he could handle it. Besides, being a shrew about it would only make it worse.

Plus, I had Rose on my side to run interference.

The store loomed ahead and I turned my car into the small lot, grabbed my bag from the back.

"Hi, Mike." I brushed past him and grabbed my apron from the hook on the wall. Now that it was getting closer to Christmas, Mike was pretty much here all of the time.

"Hey, Bella. How was your week?"

"Not bad, just a little busy. Has it been crazy in here tod—Hey!" I was bending down to put my bag under the counter, and there was _something _brushing against my butt.

I shot up and whirled around. Mike was standing behind me with one of those squishy water weenies in his hand, giggling like a ten year old.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"God, that's hilarious. You should see your face right now. "

My face felt like it looked _pissed_, and I put my finger in his. "If you ever try something like that again, I'll scream to management about harassment."

His face fell, and he took a step back. "Jeeze, I was just having a little fun. Lighten up."

"No, I will not. That's not appropriate behavior for a manager. Got it?"

He shrugged and slunk away, and I tried to calm my breathing. I wasn't sure where that had come from, to be honest—normally I was a mellow sort of girl, and usually too worried about keeping things on an even keel to talk back to . . . anyone, but what he'd just done was freaking _rude. _

"Need me to crack some skulls?"

I whirled around and found Tyler at the counter, arm slung around the neck of a tiny, mousy looking girl. I peered at her, trying to place her, but she was someone I didn't recognize. This had to be a new development because while they were sort of cute together, they were also a little shy and slightly awkward together. They looked a little rough, though, and knowing the band had practiced the night before, I assumed they were just waking from a night of late, late partying.

"Hey, Ty. Thanks, but no. If he does it again I'll hand his ass over to the manager. Rough night?"

He smiled, embarrassed. "Yeah, but we're just heading to her place before the show. Bell, this is Lauren."

She gave me a little wave. Remnants of black makeup clung to the space around her eyes, too smudged to be intentional, and her color was a bit off—but, then again, this was Seattle and December at that. My color was pretty pasty, too. I didn't have the excuse of staying up all night, either.

"Nice to meet you," I said, smiling because she was Tyler's and I liked that guy a lot.

"Yeah . . ."

Tyler cleared his throat. "We're just going to get a few things and head out. You'll be there tonight?"

"Yep, I'll see ya then."

The mouse gave me another tiny wave before they moved as a unit through the store. I sat there thinking that it was kind of cute that Tyler had found someone. Things seemed to be heading in the right direction for everyone these days. I couldn't wait for tonight.

-PoM-

Rose was waiting on me when I got out of the shower later that night, and we headed down to the Off Ramp together. It was a bigger venue, with some actual radio promotion going in to it, so the place was packed when we got there even though we were relatively early for doors.

There was a great little spot off to the side with tables, close enough to the stage to see everything, but separated from the floor to be relatively safe from our vantage point. We grabbed a few drinks and headed over, and then waited for things to start.

"Who's that up there?" I pointed to someone I hadn't seen in practice warming up on a guitar.

"Oh, that's Ben," said Rose, "They added him to play some rhythm guitar for when they want Edward front and center. Kind of to round out the sound, if you get what I mean."

"Great idea," I said. "When did they do that?"

"Early last week. He knows Jasper, and you know how that tyrant is. He only practiced with them once, though, so I hope it goes okay tonight. He's got some job at night or something, can't make it to a lot of practices."

I liked the fact that they were always seeking to improve their sound, constantly evolving during the process. It could only mean good things. I just hoped the new addition's schedule worked out for them.

"And Jasper was okay with that?"

She laughed. "He's gotta be. Ben's gotta eat."

Then Edward and Emmett were heading in our direction. Emmett threw his arm around Rose and grabbed her beer, draining it. She pushed him, and then smiled. "Hi, babe. You guys all set up?"

He launched into a big explanation, and I tuned him out to pay attention to the guy at _my _side.

Edward walked up and slid an arm around my waist, whispered hello in my ear in a voice that should be illegal.

Leaning into him, I put my arm around him and slid my fingers into his pocket—a habit I had developed. "Hey," I said as he leaned down to kiss me.

"This show is going to be fucking awesome!" said Emmett, finishing his tale. Rose just smiled at him, appreciating his boyish excitement like no one else could.

"We're going to get going, just wanted to see you two before we did," said Edward.

I preened at the attention, kissing his jaw and then his ear. "Okay. See you soon."

"Good luck," said Rose.

When they walked away, I noticed the room had filled up a little more . . . and I also noticed the scowls I was getting from various female around.

"And so it begins," I muttered into my drink.

"Don't worry about it. You're the only thing he wants, capiche?"

"They don't get to kiss him like I do," I agreed, smug and silly from my drink. I was such a lightweight.

When the lights went down, the crowd moved closer to the stage, screaming, arms raised overhead in anticipation of the upcoming show.

The music started with a loud jam, one of their best in my opinion, and when the light illuminated Edward, his hands were wrapped around that mic as if he owned it. In his trademark move, he closed his eyes and let his voice capture the room.

Tyler danced back and forth as he played, a counterpoint to Jasper's smooth prowl around the stage. As much as I still didn't really know him, nor really like him for that matter, he was a great musician, concentrating on his own play, focused as if there was no one else in the room. Emmett was in usual form, more a show than anyone else on stage, and Ben rounded the sound out nicely.

The energy from the band members only fueled the crowd; they pumped their fists in appreciation to the beat of the music, and some formed a pit around the stage that was already wild.

Their entire set was a pure, honest, raw exhibition of the hard work they had put in over the last year. I was so proud that I couldn't help but get caught up in it myself.

At the last song, always a cover of a recent hit, I stood and drained my glass. "Rose, I'm gonna hit the bathroom now before it gets too hectic."

"Okay," she shouted over the music.

Even though I knew the set list by heart, knew when to take a break so I could greet Edward as he came off stage, there were some faces in line for the bathroom that I recognized. I smiled at a few, chuckling to myself that they knew the song list as well as I did, too. When I had finally taken care of my business, I walked out to wash my hands. The bathroom was already in a state of chaos, but at least they hadn't depleted the stash of paper towels.

After I'd finished rinsing my hands I looked up into the mirror to see Tanya standing right behind me. My flight instinct, always close to the surface, kicked in, but then I got aggravated from the nasty look she was giving me. So I ignored her, grabbed a paper towel, and continued to dry my hands.

"Bet you're all proud of yourself now."

I rolled my eyes and did my best to ignore her, but because of the small and cramped space the other girls in the bathroom were taking notice. Great. As much as I felt I maybe owed her an apology, I also didn't want to do it in front of all and sundry, so I turned the water off and moved to brush past her.

She stepped in front of me and tossed her hair.

"Tanya, I don't want—"

"I hope you sleep at night knowing what you did. But girls like you don't care. It's all about you. But you'll see. You're not that special, and there'll be a hundred like you coming at him until he gives in. He's not that choosey, after all. Enjoy my sloppy seconds," she said sneering.

That did it. I was done with the bullshit. I knew what happened, and knew intrinsically that I couldn't take it back, but she didn't need to insult me to prove her point. And, honestly, it'd been three freaking months already; it was time for her to just move on. I straightened and looked her in the eye.

"Technically, sweetie, I had him first. Chew on that."

I busted past her and headed out the door. My nerves were shot, hands shaky and steps jittery from the confrontation. It felt good, though. First with Mike, and now with Tanya—I'd stood up for myself for a change, didn't wait on Rose or someone else to get my back while I melted into the shadows. It sucked that I'd even had to, and while I didn't feel justified in helping Edward to cheat on her, I couldn't change the past, and didn't really want to anymore. Edward was mine, period.

When I got back to the table Rose took one look at me, and then peered over my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yep. Never better."

And I settled into watching the rest of the show.

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you so much for your comments! Absolutely love connecting with your memories._

_Come as You Are – Nirvana_

_ Violet - Hole_


	11. Pebble

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt:** Pebble

**Dialogue Flex:** "I'm not sure my bank account can cover it."

-PoM-

A year ago, I would have said I was content with my life the way it was: school, work, the occasional date; hanging out with Rose on the weekends, or occasionally going to visit my father in his small town when funds and school permitted. It wasn't a balls-out ride or anything, but it was what I thought I'd enjoyed.

Now, though, with shows at least twice a month (if not more) and the excitement of watching the guys gain more and more attention, I couldn't imagine going back to that even keel. School was going good, and work had been so much easier since I'd told Mike to cut the crap. He was polite now . . . not as friendly as before, but that was a blessing, really. And I hadn't even needed to sic my tattooed, fuck-authority boyfriend on him. Sticking up for myself was addictive.

And then there was Edward, who was so different and interesting, and sometimes woefully oblivious to everything else around him when a song was in his head or a melody was waiting to be laid down. It was the best sort of challenge learning how to fit into his life, and all the more rewarding when the doubts I'd had in the beginning were proved wrong. Because, even when he was lost inside his brain, he resurfaced and made me feel like I was special.

He was attentive in his own way, and when I remembered to let go of fantasy love stories I'd devoured growing up, the quiet affection he gave to me was oftentimes better than anything I'd read about. I was learning the ropes, so to speak, about what being _with _someone meant. My inexperience, at first a hindrance, was waning, and I liked finding what it was I wanted in life without compromising myself to another.

Not that we were without issues. They cropped up every few weeks, but the more I became comfortable with him, and also with myself, the easier it was to voice my concerns. Gone was the timid girl who'd sat back and let someone else call the shots; who'd sat idly by while forgetfulness caused havoc. If something bothered me I told him, and didn't worry that I'd be seen as a shrew.

Relationships were give and take, after all, and better when it wasn't all give on only one person's part.

-PoM-

"I need to call the magazines and push for an interview. Maybe get them lined up on the local festival schedule," Rose said.

It was early March, and while the four song EP the guys had produced with Eric was taking off locally, and in some cases beyond, what they really needed was a big break.

We all did our part. Rose talked the band up to anyone who would listen. Tyler was pushing CDs out of the back of Lauren's van whenever he could. I took copies to classes with me and hawked them on campus. Jasper was relentless in calling labels and trying to get a demo sent to them, or talking to people who knew a guy who knew a guy.

The band had taken on travelling further beyond the borders of the city to do gigs in places as far as Vancouver and Portland, with some moderate success. But I knew it was just a matter of time before they were really discovered by someone who had a bigger hand in helping them than our grassroots efforts.

"What you need is national attention. Right now there are so many good local bands, they could easily get lost in the shuffle."

Personally, I thought they were better than some of the bands that had gotten national attention in the wake of the explosion of "grunge", which had taken a hold of the music scene and knocked it on its ass.

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

I chuckled. "What does Jasper think about your self-appointed position as public relations manager?"

"I don't give a shit what he thinks. If it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have played in Portland. He's all right at managing the logistics but not the band as a whole. Besides, he knows better than to try and tell me to let him handle it."

I took a sip of coffee and muttered, "He better not, if he knows what's good for him."

"What did you say?"

"There is no one else better suited for the job, Rose," I said quickly.

"I do wish he'd keep a better eye on Tyler though."

I set my coffee down. "Why? Is something going on with Ty?"

"Kids been doping it up a lot lately. I think it's that pipsqueak he's been hanging out with. She's bad news."

I didn't disagree with her. Lauren was nice, but flakey. She was interested in partying and that was really about it. She sat with me and Rose at some of the shows, and other times she blew us off in favor of a rougher crowd that she hung around with. They always disappeared in little packs of two or three, only to come out of the bathroom with eyes that didn't seem to stay open.

Besides the usual puffs of pot or drinking that was an afterthought when a show or practice was over for me and Edward, I hadn't noticed a lot of other nonsense. Not that I was able to be around all the time, not with classes rushing toward finals and work.

Over time, I'd noticed Edward didn't really drink except for when he was playing. On nights we both could get out, when I didn't have another paper due and he didn't have a gig, we'd go catch a show or a movie together, or hang out with our friends, and he might have a beer or two but that was about it. He seemed happy to drive me so crazy with a hand stroking my spine or fingers drawing distracting patterns under my hair until I rushed him out and back to one of our apartments.

"What kind of stuff has he been into?"

"Eh, Emmett said he was trippin' on a microdot the other night."

"Acid? That's not a good move."

"That's what I'm saying. That show last week, the one you couldn't come to in Portland? Well, he was positive he was going to float off of the stage so Emmett wound an amp cord around his leg and told him he was tethered to the ground."

"If it wasn't sad, I might find that kind of funny. That worries me, though."

She looked at me, her features full of concern. "I know."

-PoM-

Bored with reviewing the same words over and over, I looked up from the term paper I had been working on for the past hour and studied my boyfriend instead. He was sitting on the couch, shirt unbuttoned and guitar propped on his lap, working on a new song.

Next to him was his tattered notebook full of lyrical prose and ideas and if Tyler was correct, the story of us. It was quite possibly the hardest thing to not peek, to not ask innocent questions that wouldn't let on that I knew what was in there, every time I saw him with it—which was often. He almost always carried it with him. There were times I'd hear something he was working on and I'd just _know _what the words were about, and the feeling that gave me was indescribable.

Another part of getting to know him was learning to understand the way he worked. He was stoic, not always comfortable with expressing his feelings in conversation. Since we'd gotten together there had been a few instances where he made his thoughts clear, times he'd let me know straight up what he was thinking about, but the old adage that actions spoke louder than words was one that fit him perfectly.

Instinctually, I knew he'd show me only what he wanted to through actions—sweet gestures like bringing me my favorite candy bar and soda when I had a long night of studying, or playing a song he knew I liked when we were just hanging out—and the rest came out in song.

And the songs he was writing . . .

Once the EP was finished and out there, he'd taken on a bigger role with the songwriting. Because of this their sound had changed a little, but onto something I thought was even more dynamic and infinitely stronger. Sadly, Tyler's input had diminished somewhat, his desire to write fading.

The newer stuff was different from the old, more intense, and it spoke to me on a level that made me feel like I was floating on a wave of promises of the future. Because I knew, intrinsically, that the songs were Edward's thoughts about me.

He put down his guitar and called to me, "Hey, beautiful girl, come here."

Not needing an excuse to postpone comparisons of war journalists in the early twentieth century, I put down my pen and gladly went to curl up under his arm on the couch.

My hand found its way to his stomach, and I traced the shape of the tattoo on his ribcage. His muscles bunched under my hand. "Mmm. This is way better than working on my paper. I could do this forever."

In a move that was _so _him, he kissed the top of my head and pulled me into his body. "Why don't you just give in and move in with me?"

I sighed and spread my hand out over my chest. It was a conversation we'd been having a lot lately, and while it thrilled me to know he wanted that, that he wanted me to be there when he got home and when he woke up, I had some qualms about the situation.

"Edward," I said, gently so he wouldn't take it as an outright refusal, but firm enough to ensure my words were heard. "We've discussed this. I don't like being here alone. When you guys are gone on away gigs, I feel more comfortable in my own apartment. Not that Rose is always there, because most of the time she's with you, but at least I'm in a place that I know. Besides, I'm not sure my bank account can cover it. Rose pays lot more utilities and rent than I do." Edward's apartment was . . . not a heap, but it wasn't in the safest area. And I got that—he was a struggling musician, and therefore he lived where he could afford. He had a part time job at a store that sold instruments, but the checks barely covered his rent most months, especially lately. He was lucky his boss was so cool and let him get away with working when he could, and that the gigs had been paying more as of late to cover the rest of his expenses.

And, while I knew I could certainly help with that on some level, I also didn't want to my portion of the rent to go to a place where I didn't feel safe. And, if things happened for him and the band . . . well, I wouldn't want to live alone, that was for sure.

And he didn't want to, as he'd put it: "Live somewhere I can hear Emmett boning Rose."

"I know you don't want to live here, and maybe we wouldn't have to. Let's get some other place together."

"The idea sounds wonderful." Waking up to him every morning would be a kind of heaven.

"Then why are you resisting it so hard? I'm going to start taking it personally."

I sat up and turned around to face him. "Hush it. You mean the world to me, and if you don't know that by now then I'm clearly not doing the whole 'girlfriend thing' correctly. But, seriously, you guys are on the brink of something big, I just know it. And when it happens—not if—there'll be a lot of change happening. And I'd be more comfortable in my apartment."

"That's exactly the point. Things are going to change, but you're home to me, Bella. Wherever I go, I want to know I can come home to you."

I smiled and snuggled into his chest. So tonight was going to be one of those rare nights where he let me in on his thoughts through conversation, and when my heart positively melted. He _so_ didn't play fair. My lips found the skin over his heart and I hovered there, just breathing him in. I grinned when his nipples pebbled under my breath, and moved my thumb to the side of his jaw to stroke the scruff on his chin.

Above all, being with him had taught me how to be myself. Every day, something he said or did made my breath catch, made my lungs fill until they were fit to bursting. That we'd found each other again was fated, I knew it as surely as I knew my name, and I loved the way we'd settled into each other after our reconnection.

Even with that knowledge, the thought of him leaving to go on the road full-time scared me to death. I trusted him. Rose, my eyes and ears when I couldn't be around, kept an eye out on any potential hazards for me. She reported in after every show, every road trip, and let me know how many times Edward had rebuffed advances—and I didn't think it was just because she was there, either. But the havoc that distance and opportunities that future stardom might bring could hold kept me awake at night sometimes. I didn't want to lose this thing we had because, knowing now how good it could be between us, made that thought unbearable.

"You're my home, too. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else _with _anyone else. But until we know for sure, I think we should just . . . hold off on the moving in thing."

"I get it, you're over dating a musician," he said, dropping his arms in mock disgust.

I poked him in the ribs. "Whatever. How about a compromise? Let's see how the next couple of months go, and then we can decide."

There was always the summer. Work would be steadier, and the class load I'd set up in the beginning of this school year could be adjusted. Back then I hadn't thought I'd want so much free time and had taken any chance I could to pile up credit hours. Next fall could be scheduled with more slack, and I could get either a better paying job or pick up more hours at the store. A nicer apartment would be attainable then.

"Bella."

"Huh?"

"Babe, where'd you go?"

"I was just thinking about something."

"Uh, huh," he said as he moved to kiss me underneath the ear. He trailed his lips down my neck. "What about?"

"About . . . about maybe this summer we could move in together?"

He grinned. "Yeah? And why's that?"

"Well, I wouldn't need to schedule myself so many classes next year if we waited until this summer, and then I could work more. I know you say I don't need to worry about it, but I'd be able to pay my half of the bills. I've always hated that Rose picks up so much of my slack."

"You're one of a kind. Most girls I know would be all over not paying for their way."

I huffed. "Yeah, and I'm not most girls."

"I know you're not. It's what makes you so sexy." His arm fell to my waist, fingers slipped into the back of my jeans.

I let him go on for a bit, but then pulled back. "Ugh, hold that thought. I'm more than glad to let you do whatever you want to me later, but I need to get back to my paper or I won't finish it in time."

He closed his eyes, scrubbed his hand over my face. "You're killing me here."

I pried his hands away from his face and kissed him quickly. "I'm sorry, and I promise I'll make it up to you. Now, get back to playing some music, please. It helps me study."

He grabbed his guitar as I headed back to the table and my books. I laughed when I heard the opening chords to one of my favorites, and nodded my head along when he began to sing.

"_Believe me some things I wouldn't miss, but I look at your pants and I need a kiss. . ." _

-PoM-

"Has Tyler been acting different lately?"

Probably surprised by the topic so immediately after we'd had sex, he lifted his head off my chest and peered at me like I'd lost my mind. "No. What brought that up?"

My arms went around his neck to play with the damp hair of his nape. "Dunno. Rose brought up the acid incident earlier this week."

"And you were thinking about it just now? I'm losing my skill, apparently."

"No, stop that. You know you're better than good. I was just thinking about it while I wrote my paper and then you didn't give me a chance to ask."

"Oh. Well, you looked cute with your glasses on." He shifted his weight off of me, reached to grab a cigarette. "What'd Rose say to you?"

"Just that he's been messing with some heavy stuff. Someone needs to tell him to watch out, ya know? Something could happen to him while he's performing. He could fall off of the stage . . ."

He held his arm out so I could take a drag. "I mean, he's been experimenting, but it's nothing we all haven't done at one time or another, Bella. He's young and he needs to get it out of his system. He can take care of himself. Jasper already gave him the 'no acid, no 'shrooms' lecture, so don't worry about it."

I started to interrupt, but, just then , the phone rang. Edward glanced at the phone on the table near the sofa and groaned.

"Ugh. Don't want to get that," he said, leaning his head on the back of the couch.

"Just do it, it might be important."

"All right, fine. But when Jasper wants to chew my head off for an hour over something, you can't say shit. Just remember that." He leaned over to the side table to pick up the phone. "Yello." A pause and then, "Hey, man, what's up?"

It was Jasper. I could hear his voice, muffled, over the other end of the line. Like usual, it sounded like the _"Wah, wah, wah"_ of Charlie Brown's teacher to me. I grabbed the blanket Edward kept over the top of the couch, wrapped it around us, and reached for the remote.

"No fucking way! When?"

His tone, so sharp and excited, stopped me in my tracks. I sat up so I could see his face, not even caring when the blanket slipped. Myriad emotions passed over his face—shock, nervousness, unadulterated excitement.

"What?" I whispered.

He held up his finger, and I wrinkled my nose at that.

"Right on, I'll see you tonight then."

He hung up the phone, stood, and began to pace around the room. AS nice as the sight was, his antics had me on edge.

"What's going on?"

"That was Jas. Holy fucking shit, I can't even believe it. I mean, I knew it'd happen, but I didn't know when . . . God damn, this is fucking stellar."

"How about an explanation for me that involves telling me what, exactly, you're mumbling about?"

But I knew. It was there on his face, in the way he couldn't even express himself properly. It was there in the tightening and releasing of his fists, the animated steps.

When he said the band's name, I wanted to scream with joy for him and weep in sorrow because this was huge. When he said the other band they'd be replacing had dropped out of a West Coast tour, my stomach hurt. When he dropped down beside me and kissed me, and gave me every bit of his happiness in that action, I pulled away and congratulated him because it was what he'd worked for, and it was his big break.

"They want us. Holy shit, can you believe it. They're so big right now, and we're going to get our name out there. God, baby, this is so fucking killer."

"I'm so happy for you, Edward," I said, and meant it.

Happy for myself, on the other hand? Well, that was another story.

-PoM-

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Release – Pearl Jam_

_xo Nic for helping me bounce around tunes…_


	12. Cafe

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt:** Café

**Plot Generator—Idea Completion: ** Snowed in

-PoM-

"Did you get everything?"

Rose paused in shoving the last of her things into a suitcase. Her room looked like a level five tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were slung over every available surface because they were deemed not cool enough; tubes of makeup lay scattered after being tossed aside in favor of some other color; dresser drawers were stacked haphazardly in piles on the floor. The only clean spot was the small square of bed where I currently sat.

"I think so," she said slowly, glancing around at the mess. "And if not, I'll just buy it."

I shook my head—any chance to add something new. "You just gonna leave it like this?"

"Probably. I'll clean it when I get back. Lord knows I'll probably have a stack of laundry to do then, anyway."

I hummed in agreement and looked at my fingernails while she started reciting a checklist out loud. It was hard not to be jealous watching her get ready to go meet up with the guys.

The very same night they got the call about the tour was the night they'd had to leave. I'd had to watch Edward do this same thing, so thrilled for him and so bummed for myself all at the same time. He'd been so amped that it was easier to push my own hurt aside and help him gather clothes and soap for his beat up duffel bag.

He'd been a chatterbox that night musing on what songs they would play and where they'd get to go, and I added in on the conversation only when necessary. I'd never hated going to school more than I did that night, and the realization that he was leaving soon started to get to me when he drove me back to my place. It wasn't until we'd arrived at my apartment, his last stop before heading to meet the guys that he began to notice my less-than enthusiastic responses.

Even though Jasper was probably going to be mad about it, he sat on the front stop of my building with me for an hour, huddled so close beside me to ward off the chill of an early March night. He'd kissed and hugged me, tried to work out weekends where I might be able to get away from school and work. Told me that he wished I was going, too.

And I felt like an asshole for showing too much emotion when he stood to leave, hated the look on his face like he thought I wouldn't be able to handle it. He _should be _excited to go because it was what he'd worked so hard on. So I wiped my eyes and smiled big, held him extra tight and made him promise to call me any chance he could get just so I could hear how awesome they were doing. I told him repeatedly that I was so proud of him because I really, really was.

Now Rose was leaving me three weeks later to meet them in San Jose for the middle leg of the tour. She'd raided the small inheritance her grandmother had left her, paid the rent for two months and quit her job at the office complex where she worked because they hadn't been willing to give her that much time off.

Brave, that one. She'd find another job, of that I was sure, or she'd tell Jasper to piss off and take over managing the guys.

"Sure you can't come with?"

I looked up from my pity party, shook my head. "I wish I could. God, I can't even begin to explain how much I wish I could. But it's my last quarter and I've got to put some money in the bank for books and tuition next year. I'm still holding out hope for L.A., though. Fingers crossed that it works out."

"Did you talk to Edward today yet?"

"Yeah, he called earlier when I got home from classes."

"How's he doing?"

I smiled at that—it was hard not to. "Oh, man, he's so freaking pumped to see what they can do with this."

"And how about you?"

"I'm really excited for them; they've worked so hard."

She pushed a pile of clothes onto the floor and parked beside me. "That's not what I asked."

I shrugged. "Can't help it if I feel a little bummed, ya know? I want this for him, swear to god, but it's like all of a sudden there's this void and it sucks, too. I keep telling myself that it's for the best, but sometimes . . ."

"She sighed. "I know what you mean. I'm over-the-moon stoked for Emmett, but I've been missing him a lot. Sucks that I get to go see them while you have to stay here."

"That it does. Ugh, if I start bawling when you get ready to leave, well . . . I'm sorry in advance. First Edward and now you. Who am I gonna talk to?"

"Aww, chick. The L.A. show is in two weeks. Just count down until then. At least you've got work and school to keep you busy in the meantime. Not the same, or whatever, but you'll get through this. And we'll party so goddamn hard when you join us."

"Hah, true. I was thinking of going and looking for a different job, actually. Maybe an internship for the summer. Probably have to work a few nights at the store to supplement the pay difference, but . . . I kind of want to move in with Edward when he gets back."

I didn't look at her, scared to see her reaction. We'd been roommates for so long now, but being apart from Edward had made me realize how much I wanted to be with him. And that I was no longer falling for him; I loved him flat out. It wouldn't hurt so much to be separated from him if I didn't.

"Well, I think that's awesome, Bella."

I glanced up, saw that she was being honest.

"Maybe I'll work on Emmett and see if he wants to come live here. I'll miss you and all, but it'll be nice to see my man walk around naked and make me pancakes."

"Oh my god! Too much sharing there, Rose."

"Just being honest. If your man had an ass like mine, you'd want to see it unclothed as often as possible, too."

I laughed, and for the first time since I'd entered her room to see her packing, felt a little lighter. "Gross. That was a mental picture I didn't need."

She glanced at her watch. 'Shit, I need to jet if I want to get through the airport on time. So, don't kill yourself working too hard, okay? It's only five weeks until they're back, and that time will pass before you know it."

"I'll do my best."

She hugged me before she stood and grabbed her bag. "I'll call you as much as I can."

She blew me a kiss as she walked out of the door, and I tried not to let the jealous tears fall. Not that I succeeded.

-PoM-

It was delicious, and dirty, and so, so good. Hands worked my body in a slow and sensuous tease. Lips wrapped around my nipple and made me arch up. That voice was all honey and bourbon when it whispered at me to be still and enjoy.

And then the ringing started, and I woke up.

The fucking phone . . . interrupting a really, really good dream about Edward.

I punched my mattress and rolled over. It was dark as hell outside, and my old fashioned alarm clock didn't have a light on it. I grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

From my dream to my ear. I sat up and fumbled for the light. "Edward? What time is it?"

"It's two-thirty. Were you asleep?"

"Uh, yeah, but that's okay. Except you just interrupted my dream about you," I said, all raspy voiced like a frog. Nice. I cleared my throat.

"Was it dirty?"

"Shush." I giggled and told him to hold on a second while I got resituated in bed. "Okay, back. I'm not telling you what I was dreaming about. Where are you?"

"Sacramento. We're about to get on the bus to head to San Jose."

"Oh, cool. Rose should be there already to meet you all."

He started to say something when there was a shout too close to the end of his line. Sounded like Jasper. _"Hey, Edward. C'mon man." _

And then some giggling . . . that certainly wasn't male. My sense went on full alert and I pressed the phone to my ear. There was a scratchy sound, and then his voice drifted over it, softer, indistinct. "In a minute, man. Sorry. Baby, you still there?"

"Yeah. Who's that with you?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but the ring of distrust in my tone was evident to me.

"The band, some of the guys from the other one who're riding with us. Some random chicks they picked up, too. I don't know, it's been a weird night. I made them stop because I saw a payphone and I wanted to hear your voice."

Deep breaths, I told myself. He'd wanted to hear my voice, and I had to trust him or this wouldn't go over well. "Oh, gotcha. It sounded loud is all. Anyway, why was the night weird? Is everything okay?"

"Up until tonight everything's been great. And then we almost got booed off the stage in Redding."

"Oh no! Why?"

"They were expecting the other band so some people started throwing stuff. Ty got hit with a full glass of beer, so he got pissed and grabbed the mic, and then started reaming the crowd. It got worse after that and before I knew what was happening, Emmett and Ty were hucking things back at the crowd."

"Oh, damn. Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. It's just kind of stuff that goes with the territory. They calmed down a little once we started to play."

"Jeez. Doesn't sound like much fun."

"It would be if you were here."

For a moment, that sure-of-himself attitude he wore like armor slipped. It was in his voice, slurred because it was a show night, but the loneliness was evident in his words. Even surrounded by all of those people, he missed me.

The girls being around didn't bother me as much anymore. My words got stuck in my throat, and when I finally got them out they sounded watery. "I wish I was with you. I miss you so much and I can't wait until I can see you."

"_Edward, get your ass on the bus!"_

"Fuck, I gotta go."

"Sounds like it. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, Bella? I love you."

Despite the fact that the confession might have been fueled by alcohol and just being away, I believed every word. That he'd said them at all made my heart fucking soar. I nodded at the phone, which was just stupid, and then smiled so wide it hurt. And, soon, I'd get to see his face when he said them.

"I love you, too. Be careful, all right? Call me the next chance you get."

He hung up and I listened until I heard the dial tone, reached over and pressed down the button, and then slowly placed the receiver back down. Curling back into myself in the bed because it was cold, I felt a little warmer inside knowing he loved me, too.

-PoM-

"Hey, what are you doing here? I didn't think anyone would be out on a day like this. Looks like we're going to get snowed in. Isn't it wild?"

I looked up from my notes when a tattooed, skinny ass plopped down across from me. The cafe was one I visited often when I had a few hours to kill in between classes. "Hey, I greeted. "Trust me, if I didn't have to meet someone, I'd be at home. I've got a job interview in a few minutes.

Leah, a girl I knew through the local band scene, and also because she made my overpriced coffee every time I came in and gave me free refills, raised her eyebrow. I thought it was cool how her piercing wiggled when she did so.

"Did you quit the store?"

"No, but I'm looking for something else, too. Something I might actually enjoy."

"Rad. You could always come and sling coffee with me, you know."

"Maybe. If this doesn't work out, I might just take you up on that offer."

She glanced at the empty place in front of me where my cup of coffee would usually be by now. "Want your usual?"

"Oh, please? And thank you."

Once the deep mug was in front of me, I lened over and dug a folder and one of my journals out of my bag. The coffee wouldn't help calm the jittery feeling I was already experiencing, but I sipped it anyway, glad for the warmth.

Fifteen minutes passed and I was worried I'd gotten the meeting place or time wrong. I kept looking at my watch and glancing at the front door, nerves making me reshuffle my papers constantly.

The windows let me see how thick the show was getting outside, and I prayed my ancient vehicle would get me home without throwing in the towel. I tried not to imagine Edward and Rose in California right now, away from all of this unexpected, late-season cold. Lucky asses.

I was flipping through a few pages of my journal for the third time when the bell above the door jangled. Someone entered on a wave of arctic air, and I shivered before I looked up. A tall man, sandy-haired and with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, was stomping snow off of his shoes just inside the doorway. He glanced around the shop, and when I waved, headed my way.

"Bella?"

I pushed away from the table and stood. "Yes, sir."

"Hi, I'm Peter. Knock off the 'sir' nonsense, though. I'm not that old."

I smiled and held out my hand. "Sorry about that. It's so nice to meet you. I'm an admirer of your work."

Before I could ask him if he wanted a coffee Leah was there.

"What can I get you?"

"An Americano, please." He gestured to my mug, looked me in the face. "You still good there?"

"Yes, but thank you."

"Sorry I'm late. The snow's been a pain in the ass today. I would have had you meet me at the office, but, honestly, I wanted to get out of there, and after we're done here I'm heading home." I chuckled. This guy was the most laid-back interviewer I'd ever met.

"Not a problem."

"So, let's get down to business. Tell me why you think you'd be a good fit for us, Bella."

This was the moment I hated in interviews. I took a deep breath and prepared to sell my awesome skills to him.

"Well, I'm a journalism major at the UW, just finishing my second year."

Not the most original, sure, but it was my first point of attack. Obviously having heard that one before, he looked terribly unimpressed. I pressed on, determined to do this.

"And while I realize that doesn't make me different from other potential interns, I do think I have an edge on them. Working with you would be a perfect opportunity to get experience in my chosen field, and especially one that I have such an insane passion for."

Leah interrupted then, setting the order down, and shot me a concealed thumbs-up before she scurried away.

"You realize this job is basically as an intern with little money to start with."

"I do. I have another job a few hours a week to offset that, not that it would get in the way. But, you see, the opportunity to learn things that I'd never get the chance to learn in school is invaluable to me. I leaned across the table, looked him square in the eye. "I _know _music. This is what I should be doing."

"Wow. You are enthusiastic, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." I shuffled through my papers, grabbed the item on the bottom of the stack. "I brought along one of my journals to show you. It's a hobby of mine, and one I took so seriously that it created a dream of becoming a journalist. Recently, it's been become so much a part of me that it made me realize what I wanted to do with my degree."

He held out his hand and took the bound notebook. As he thumbed through it, I began to explain.

"Every single piece of music I've listened to in the last decade has been recorded in one of these. This is an earlier one, but I have a newer one if the rating system of stars and . . . hearts is a little too juvenile."

He laughed. "I see that. Do the different color hearts represent something?"

I smiled. "No, just a young girl's need to make things colorful."

"Hmm. So, you started doing this at the age of ten?"

I nodded. "I did. I find that it helps me to focus on pieces of music, to listen to what's beyond the surface." I dug my latest journal out of the pile so he could see my progression, and handed it to him.

"I've never seen anything like it." He paused to read entries here and there and stopped on my most recent one.

"This is impressive. I like your descriptions."

"Thank you."

"Look, I can't promise you anything fancy, but if you're willing to learn and can put up with my copy editor, you've got yourself a job."

"Thank you, Peter, um Mister . . ."

"Just call me Peter. And welcome to the staff of _The Rocket_, Bella. I think you'll be a great addition to our team ."

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you so much for your comments. They truly make my day._

_So Far Away – Dire Straits (yeah, I know 1985...)_

xo


	13. Plate

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Plate

-PoM-

"You finished with that copy yet?"

It was hard not to roll my eyes at Marcus, _The Rocket_'s copy editor, but common sense prevailed. I grabbed the stack of paper that had been finished over an hour ago and handed it over.

"Perfect. Now I can go to lunch."

"Asshole," I muttered when he was out of hearing range.

Peter's warning the day at the coffee shop, which I'd initially thought a joke, was one I'd learned was not to be taken lightly. Marcus was loud, obnoxious, and overbearing; put plainly, he was a dick. Couldn't even do his own work—oh no—he dumped it on my desk umpteen times a day, usually covering up the work I already had on my plate in the process.

However, even though I was working for pennies, basically, and had to put up with Marcus, I didn't mind the reading. The Rocket was a fun place to work, really. Most of the people were cool, and I'd been welcomed easily . . . had to go get a lot of coffee orders, but I figured it was putting in time. Someday I'd be able to send an intern for coffee, and I wouldn't even feel bad about it.

The bonus, above the experience of working for a magazine, was learning so much more than I thought I knew about national and local talent. CDs and EPs were parceled in all day long, and the columnists were absolutely game in letting me take them home to listen to when they were through reviewing them. Proofing their columns for Marcus let me see their processes, and I learned some things about my own in return.

Funnily enough, my absolute favorite column to assist on was the one where a staff writer spent most of his time bashing local bands in an attempt to increase his readership. He was harsh, and definitely incensing, but his negativity wasn't all bad—some of the things he disliked were honest criticisms, and points of reference to work on.

He pissed off the local bands like crazy, but somehow it just . . . worked.

"Morning, Bella."

I looked up from sorting my work into neater piles now that Marcus' was gone. "Hey, Peter."

"How's your day going so far?"

"Not too bad." I smiled, quietly cursing Marcus and his lazy ass.

"Good, good. This is what I want to hear." He parked himself on the edge of my desk and began sorting through a folder. "Listen, Bella, I'm really impressed with your work ethic. You've eased into this hectic place remarkably well, and most of the staff have nothing but good things to say about you."

I didn't ask what 'most of the staff' meant: we all knew Marcus thought I was worthless.

"I'm happy to hear that," I said. "I really like it here."

"Excellent. You're a good fit, kid. I think you'll do well when school is done and you're applying for work. And, on that note, what would you say to taking on a bigger assignment?"

Excitement pitched in my belly, and I worked on tamping it down. Didn't want to smile like a loon. "Sure. That would be cool."

He extracted a CD from the folder, tossed it on my desk. "I want you to review this for me."

An all too familiar, cool blue picture of the rock cliffs in LaPush with original graphics stared up at me. I knew this album like the back of my hand; had the melodies of all four songs running on a constant loop in my thoughts all day long.

It was the guy's EP. The one they were promoting on tour.

And, if I wasn't mistaken, a total conflict of interest. There'd been a class on this at school just last week. There was no way in hell I could do a review on my boyfriend's band.

"I— I'm not sure if I can do this. ."

"Of course you can. I've read some of your journals, remember? I think this would be a good fit for where your musical tastes lie. You have a lot going on at the moment, I realize this, but I'm giving you an opportunity here, Bella. Mind you, I'll review it and see if it'll even fly. At this point, it's only an exercise."

During my week-long stint at _The Rocket_, I'd engaged with my co-workers, but hadn't divulged that I was dating Edward. It seemed like if I did I would be bragging, or trying too hard to build a name outside of my own work. So I didn't think it was possible that Peter knew.

Obviously, I took too long in answering. Peter stood and placed the folder on my desk. "I understand that this might seem like a big deal to you. My first review was nerve-wracking, and I rewrote it so many times that it ended up sounding detached. Why don't you take this home this weekend, see what you think. The deadline on this isn't immediate, and you can give me your answer on Monday."

A breath of relief left my lips. "I think that I'll do that. Thanks for being so understanding—I'm just being silly, huh?"

He smiled, and it was a kind one. Not condescending, not like he was disappointed. Peter was a good dude, and I was glad to work with him. "Not silly at all. For what it's worth, I think you'd give some of my staff a run for their press badges. Have a good weekend, Bella."

With those words he departed my cubicle, and I reached out to grab the folder he'd left on my desk.

It was mostly clippings of show reviews, some press releases from the tour stating that they were the opening act to a larger band. The releases had Jasper written all over them. Small time stuff, and I knew that this write-up would be one of the first in one of the local music magazines.

It was an opportunity not just for the guys, but for myself, as well. Peter had unknowingly picked out something I could shine on because I knew the music better than maybe anyone else besides the guys. I _could _do this, and I could do it superbly. I just wasn't sure that, ethically, I should.

-PoM-

* * *

_Your comments deserve all the love._

_All Apologies - Nirvana_

___xo_


	14. Prize

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt:** Prize

-PoM-

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

I stared out the window of our apartment and down to the street, where my car sat dead. The guy who lived in 1B was a mechanic, and while he was kind enough to look at it for me free of charge when it wouldn't start this morning, the diagnosis of 'bad transmission' and 'thousand bucks to fix' had killed any hope of me joining Edward for the L.A. show. Time and money were in short supply.

"Rose, I just can't. Fixing my car is going to eat up my bank account, and I was going to drive down. There's no way I can rent a car, swing gas, and pay for the repairs to my car in the meantime."

"You know Edward would buy you a plane ticket in a heartbeat."

"I know, but I don't want him to have to do that." I swiped my hands over my eyes, not that it did any good. I'd been tearing up off and on all day. Peter had been incredibly nice about the whole thing, telling me when I apologized that I was going to be late this morning to not worry about it and take the day off.

"I wish you'd reconsider. I don't—"

She was interrupted by someone in the background and she spoke to them with her hand covering the phone.

"Just a sec. _Here_."

"Bella?"

"Hey," I said, loving the way his voice washed over me. It made me feel like he wasn't so far away.

"Are you coming down?" He sounded raspier than usual, most likely a product from doing so many shows.

"I can't, "I sighed. "There's just too many things going on."

He paused for a moment. "I really want you here."

My eyes welled up again. "And I'd love to be there . . ."

"Then it's settled. I have money from the advance and I'm going to get you a ticket. I'm not taking no for an answer."

I sniffled. "When you want your way . . ."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Are you sure? I don't want to use up money from your advance. You're going to need it when you guys get back."

"_Hey, Rose, go make sure Emmett isn't burning the place down. I've got this." _There was the sound of a door closing, and then he started to speak again. "Seriously, no arguing with me. The advance money we got is more than enough for anything I'll need when we come back, and Jasper found some place to print up t-shirts during one of the days we had nothing to do, so we've got some merch money coming in, too. I need you to come see me, Bella."

And because he put it that way, I decided then and there that there was no way I was going to turn him down. I wiped my eyes and smiled for the first time all day.

"Okay, then; I'll see you Thursday. Thank you. I love you."

"Me, too. Four days and you're here. I can't fucking wait. I'll talk to you soon, okay? Rose is back and she's got those shifty eyes, ya know?"

I laughed. "Bye. Have a good show tonight."

"Bye, Bella."

The line crackled, and then Rose's voice was in my ear. "Hey, chica."

"Is he okay? He sounds awful."

"They're all beat. Besides the schedule, there's been some pretty heavy partying going on. I've ended up taking over the managing duties anyway because Jasper can't keep his dick in his pants. We hardly see him except at the shows."

"Oh, wow. Is he . . . I mean, is he going hard?"

"Eh. I mean, yeah, he parties, and sometimes he's hungover as hell in the morning, but you don't have to worry. I'm keeping an eye on things. I know he misses you a lot—it's there when he talks about you."

"Thanks, Rose. I'm so glad you're there with them."

I almost asked about something else, but she beat me to it.

"Don't worry about him so much. I know you are, I can hear it. He's been a model boyfriend in every way, promise. Like, it's in his nature to be generous to fans, you know, giving them time and such, and some are definitely more enthusiastic than others. And believe me, they try, but they can't get past me. And he's learning on how to slide away from them by throwing Jasper in their faces. Which is hilarious. Anyway, before we have to pay out of our ass for this call, lemme get off here. I'll get your flight together and leave you a message on the machine. It's better if I just do it anyway."

We went over a few details and said our goodbyes. I glanced out the window, stared at the Seattle skyline, and imagined how the skies of California looked right now. Excitement took over my misery, and I closed my eyes knowing I was going to be there with him in just a few short days.

-PoM-

"_At this time, we are starting our descent into Los Angeles . . ."_

Awed by the vastness of the city as a whole, I pressed my forehead to the window, and watched as everything came into view. To the east, the city appeared to spread clear into the horizon, the twinkling of the lights illuminating the grid as everything switched over in preparation for the dark of night. The entire city appeared pink and gray, the water to the west black in the setting sun.

Rose had instructed me to meet her at the hotel to drop my things off and then we'd hit the show. With some of the cash I'd brought I took a taxi there, watching out the window as the city around me came to life. I'd always heard that L.A. was full of beautiful people, and that appeared true. It was like fashion show on speed, all bright colors and long hair, lights flashing like a backdrop.

The hotel we were staying at was by no means glamorous, and I paid my cabbie and climbed out with my bag on to the sidewalk populated by people my age or younger, musicians with drum sticks hanging out of their pockets, and a ton of pretty girls in tight, flashy clothing.

Feeling like a badly dressed extra on a movie set, I shook my head and tried to imagine people in Seattle dressing this way only to freeze their asses off.

Rose was waiting at the front desk when I got inside, talking to a clerk. She looked normal, thank god, a flash of black clothes amidst a sea of peacocks. The clerk was hanging on her every word, laughing when she waved her hands like she did when she was caught up in the telling of a story. She turned as she spoke, caught my eye, and left the poor guy high and dry as she made a mad dash to meet me.

I dropped my bag at my feet when she hugged me tightly.

"Thank fuck you're here. I need someone normal right now. You wouldn't believe what a fucking freak show this is sometimes."

"Yeah. It's a bit different around here. Are the guys here with you?"

"No, they're already at the club. I stayed to get you settled and then we'll head over. We'll probably get there just in time for the start of their set."

We headed to our floor to drop my bag off in her room until I would be able to get into Edward's room, and I begged five minutes to get into fresh clothes. Normally I didn't really care too much about that sort of thing, but I'd been passing a vintage shop on yet another coffee run for the staff of _The Rocket_, and saw a pretty baby doll dress I had to have. It was sage green and lacey, and I was in love with it.

Paired with a pair of docs, it was also pretty kick ass.

Rose whistled when I stepped out of the bathroom and threw me a tube of lipstick. "Nice legs, chick. Edward'll go crazy."

"Maybe." I smiled and hoped he would.

The Sunset Strip was awesome, and Rose pointed things out as we drove by them. Apparently she'd been sightseeing all day while the guys had slept, done sound checks and had a meeting.

"What was the meeting about?" I asked, pulling my eyes away from the flashing marquees.

She shrugged. "Dunno. Probably Jasper being a dick. That guy gets laid more than I give it up to Em, and he's still a jerkoff. You'd think Edward would be the crab by this point because your ass is too far away for him to get a piece, but no. He's just a mope. I just don't get it."

"Well, at least Jasper hates you, too," I said. "So I don't feel so alone."

"He's always been that way. I think he just hates anyone who's not in the band because he thinks they're in the way. Anyway . . . how's the internship?

There was just enough time left in our ride for me to tell her about Marcus, and then the cab was slowing down and stopping in front of a non-descript building, black on the outside with barely any signage and a long line of people wrapped around the corner.

"Doesn't look like much," she said, paying the fare, "but you should see the inside. Big bar on the floor, and a balcony with a few smaller bars up top. Decent sized stage, too."

"I can't wait." The people in line all looked like one form or another of the people back at the hotel. There were two bouncers in front checking IDs and stamping hands, and another checking tickets. I started to head to join when Rose grabbed my arm.

"Nuh-uh, we're going in the back." She dug in her back pocket for something that looked like a laminated card. "We're special."

I laughed at her and followed her around the side of the building. The guy standing guard gave us shit until Rose swung the pass in front of his face. He studied it like it was a fake or something, and then eventually let us in.

There wasn't any time to go see the guys before the show started, so we headed onto the floor. I studied the people milling around as we walked, caught glimpses of conversations of people asking "Who?!" when someone mentioned the opening act as we wandered through the general admission area.

It was bright inside, so packed the air was almost stifling, and there was someone doing mic checks on stage. Still, though, it was a huge venue compared to the bars and clubs they'd played back home, and the excitement I felt for Edward was huge. Rose grabbed my hand. "Let's go over here where we can see better."

She led me to a place where we had a good view and I could feel the flow of air on my skin. I fanned myself and bounced on my toes to see if I could spot the guys off-stage, but no dice. Finally, the club announcer gave his introduction and the lights dropped. Everyone around us seemed disinterested, more intent on socializing and on what was in their glass.

The lights went all the way down and the band broke into their opening number. Their sound was infectious and seductive at the same time, and the moody use of lighting they employed was perfect ambiance.

"I haven't heard this one before," I shouted at Rose.

"Isn't it fucking fantastic?"

A light focused center stage, and I watched, mesmerized, as Edward grabbed the mic and blew the crowd away. I catalogued his appearance, lost my breath because he looked so damn good up there. The people surrounding me were now taking notice, their heads bobbing to the music. He pointed out into the crowd with his eye on the prize—owning this.

During Jasper's solo, Edward turned around and dragged the mic stand from the front of the stage pumping it to the beat of the song. Emmett looked out into the crowd then, and when he kicked up his playing a bit I knew he'd spotted us. He signaled to Edward, gave a nod in our direction, and when he turned to look, a sexy smile appeared on his face.

His entire demeanor seemed to change when he saw me in the crowd; He turned it up a notch and the crowd fed off of his sultry delivery and surged forward to feel his command of the stage. And, for as much as I didn't want to turn my eyes away from him, I couldn't help but checking out the crowd around me as the band built to a primal crescendo on their song. They were into it, into the guys, and just as awestruck as I often was when I heard them play.

They'd come so far in a short time and were on their way to becoming rock gods.

-PoM-

"C'mon."

Rose grabbed my hand as soon as the band left the stage. The response to the guys had been incredible to watch. I was too used to shows in the Seattle area. The crowds here weren't as wild as the ones back home—there was nary a mosh pit to be found, and it almost made me homesick—but what the concertgoers lacked in energy they made up for in intensity. Whistles and screams followed them even after the lights began to go up.

"Where are we going?" I asked, dodging a cluster of pretty blonde girls with deep, deep tans.

"Backstage."

Apparently we weren't the only ones with the idea. A press of bodies surrounded the door leading to the back of the club where the bands had small rooms to get ready or chill in. Rose elbowed her way through the throng, and I gave up on trying apologizing after I got sent the fifth dirty look.

She fished in her pocket for the backstage pass from earlier, flashed it at the guy guarding the door. "We're allowed back here," she said.

Honestly, he didn't seem as interested in the pass as he did her boobs. He glanced over at me, shrugged, and then checked out Rose's rack one more time before holding open the door. "Go ahead, ladies. Line's to the left."

"Swear to god that happens every time," she muttered when we started down the hall.

"Who are all of these people?" I asked, looking around at the crowd gathered in the hallway. While more subdued that the one we'd just passed through, it was still a lot more people than I'd ever seen at one of the shows back home. Most of them had drinks, and smoke made them indistinct and hazy.

"Media, star fuckers, people who won backstage passes from the radio stations. Most of them are here for the closing act, but sometimes they want to talk to our guys, too. It's like this at every show. Different, huh?"

"I'll say. It's kind of neat, actually. Feels like they're moving up."

She laughed. "Yep. I wish you were here on tour with us. It's kind of awesome to see how the bigger bands get treated. And the venues are way better than the ones back home."

"I was thinking that while they played." We stopped to let a bunch of guys dressed in black t-shirts and carrying gear pass us. Stage crew, I supposed. "The acoustics in the place are amazing."

"Yeah. Okay, it's the last door on the left. The open one."

I looked forward to where barks of laughter could be heard floating into the crowded hallway. I smiled—Emmett.

Rose stuck her head in the door. "You better all be decent."

The room was packed, and I glanced around immediately for Edward. I saw Jasper, shirtless and sweaty, talking to a knockout redhead with boobs bigger than any I'd ever seen in real life. Tyler was sitting alone in a corner of the room, head down and eyes shut. Poor guy looked wiped. Emmett reached over to grab Rose and pull her into his side, and ruffled my hair.

"Bellalooski. Look who finally got her ass down to see us play."

"Hey, Emmett. You guys sounded great tonight!"

But, as glad as I was to see him, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander for the person I needed to see.

"He's just went to take a leak," Emmett said. "Door in the back."

"Classy, Em. " But he had already turned his attention to Rose.

I made a beeline for the door he'd pointed out, leaned against the wall opposite it. My hands went to smooth down my dress, muss my hair, and in the thirty second that took, the door opened.

"Hey."

Edward stared for only a moment. "Holy fuck, it's good to see your face." He grabbed me, pulled me back into the bathroom, and shut the door.

I laughed and leaned against the door. "That was . . . unexpected. What are we doing in he—"

Lips, warm and rough and just a little bit whiskey scented, cut off my words. I flattened my palms on the door behind me and went up on my tiptoes to be closer. As often as I'd fantasized about kissing him again, those dreams paled to the reality of lips against mine, of scratchy facial hair and long fingers cupping my face.

My hands left the door and went to his shoulders, tugging at his shirt until there wasn't space between his body and mine. He was sweaty and warm, tasted of whiskey and smoke and god I'd missed him so much. When his fingers dug into the back of my thigh and pulled my leg around him, I attacked his neck and waited until he'd pulled the other leg up, too. Through the thin fabric of my dress I felt him hard and there and grinding into me. "Missed you . . ." He pulled down the shoulder of my dress and bit the skin of my shoulder. "Fuck, you taste good." His hands went behind me, fingers slipping under my dress and into the back of my panties. "Feel good, too."

"Edward," I said, gasping, the last letter drawn out because he'd sipped his fingers into me. "Wha—oh, shit that feels good."

He pressed into me harder, rocking me into the door. The grain of it was scratchy against my bare bottom, but I didn't care. What I cared about was his mouth, which I fought my way to; his lips, which I bit at; his tongue, which tangled with mine in rhythm to his fingers below—all fast, fast, slow, hard and harder.

"You gonna come?" he asked when he broke away from my mouth and bit the skin behind my ears.

"Mmhmm . . ." My legs tensed around his back when he hit the sweet spot with his thumb. "Keep doing that."

But he pulled his hand away, kissing me when I cried out from the absence of them, and reached into his pocket. He handed me the condom, and for the briefest moment while he fiddled with opening his button fly, I wondered if we were really going to do this in a bathroom . . . with about twenty people waiting outside the door.

But then he let his jeans fall, and I threw any worries I had aside because . . . fuck it. I wanted him to fuck me.

The condom wrapper was discarded at our feet and I rolled it on, and then he lifted me against the door again.

He groaned when he got inside, and I don't know when it had ever felt so good. There wasn't time to think about anything but the way it felt when he pulled out and slammed back in, about how our bodies fit around each other like the last two pieces of an unfinished puzzle. It was hard, and it was fast, and it was so good.

"Love you," he said, kissing me as his thrusts grew erratic.

His lips fell slack against mine when he came, and I held on to his shoulders and moved my hips so I could find mine, too.

Afterward, with my head thrown back against the door and his forehead resting on my clavicle, I laughed all of the sudden and it sounded really wheezy.

"Hello to you, too. Did you know there's a penis drawn on the ceiling?"

-PoM-

* * *

_So love the comments coming in - you guys rock!_

_Deep – Pearl Jam_

_Nic, thank you for the present, you made my day. xo_


	15. Swap

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Swap

**Dialogue Flex**: "You'll have to wait and see."

-PoM-

"Wonder how it got up there in the first place."

Edward shrugged and buttoned his jeans. His hair was a mess—mine was too, for that matter—and there was no doubt in my mind that the people in the dressing room were going to know what we'd been up to.

"Maybe whoever drew it stood on the sink," he said. "Though they'd have to have a helluva reach to get it drawn so big and exactly in the middle."

I took one last look and crossed to the mirror to fix myself up a bit—not that everyone wasn't going to know I was freshly fucked, but I didn't have to look like a skeeze when I went back out there.

At least we hadn't been in here _too _long. Not that I was complaining.

Edward came up behind me, caged me in between the sink and his body.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?"

Delighted by the compliment, I stared back at him in the mirror. "Thank you. Is this just because I broke your dry spell?"

He snickered and leaned over me to kiss my cheek, and then moved away to let me finish. "No, it's just the truth. I missed seeing you, Bella."

I turned to face him. "Same here. You ready to go back out? I hope you know in advance your running interference on any teasing."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. "It's just sex, babe. Everyone does it."

A smattering of applause followed by a few hoots and hollers greeted us when we left the bathroom. I ducked my head to disguise the blush creeping up my cheeks—it might have been 'just sex' but it was also the first time I'd willingly done it with an audience, so to speak.

Still, I didn't regret it. Until I saw his face, I hadn't realized just how much I'd longed for him the past few weeks. I had a feeling the next few weeks were going to be torturous now that I'd gotten a chance to see him again.

Thankfully the room had thinned out a bit; from the heavy thrum shaking the room, I could tell the next band had taken the stage. Rose and Em were taking up a single space on the couch while Ben lounged on the other side nursing a smoke. Jasper and Tyler were nowhere to be seen. The other stragglers were totally unfamiliar, and I tried to avoid their stares as they openly checked me out.

"Fucking stellar, Cullen," said Emmett. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

He chuckled a little but chose not to reply to Emmett. Someone handed him a beer and I took a peek up at his face, only to see his smile was all proud and smug and completely full of himself.

Typical male.

He did pull me into his side, though, and kissed the top of my head. I melted against him—that gesture, perhaps above all others, completely turned me to mush—and slid my hand into his back pocket.

Rose said something in Emmett's ear that made his teasing cut off with a quickness, and then she looked at me. "Well, now that you two have said . . . hello, wanna get out there and see the band? I don't think you've watched them live yet."

"That sounds great."

The hallway was much clearer now and we found a space off to the side, near the door to the backstage area, to stand. It was pretty much a shitty spot, right next to a set of speakers and I couldn't see over any one from there, but at least I was with Edward.

The guys formed a buffer between me and Rose and the crowd, and Edward tucked his hands into the pockets of my dress. Every time he ran his fingers over the waistband of my panties, twisting them around his fingers until they pulled tight and then releasing them, I wondered if he was trying to kill me or just absentmindedly finding any way to touch me.

It was a great show. I laughed at Emmett and Ben when they went all air-band on the floor, bounced around with Rose when a song we both loved came up, swayed with Edward behind me when a song that always made me think of him rang out. The only damper was the girls in the crowd.

Most of the people who came up to congratulate the guys or just get a few moments of face time were polite. They nodded at us girls and didn't seem offended when the guys would signal their intent to be left alone to enjoy the show. _Some_ of the girls were too bold in coming up for autographs, though, rubbing their tits against the guys as they leaned over their arms and ignored Rose and me entirely. I tried not to let it bug me that much because Edward ignored their advances, but I could tell Rose was getting fed up.

"Honestly," she said loudly, raising her voice to be heard over the speakers when a set of brunettes shuffled her off to the side. "Bella, can you believe this shit? I mean, we're trying to watch a show with our _boyfriends _here!"

The taller one—currently asking Edward where she could buy their music—snorted and flicked her hair over her shoulder, continuing on despite Rose's obvious annoyance.

"My bet would be the merch table," I said. I gave up on being invisible so as to not offend any potential fans and curled myself around Edward's arm, effectively putting space between her and him. "Probably some t-shirts left, too."

They left pretty quickly after that, and I blew out a harsh breath and turned back toward the stage. Rose and Emmett were bickering pretty loudly off to the side and I worked hard on ignoring them.

"My girl has claws," Edward said, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind and speaking into my ear. "That was kind of hot."

"I don't like that shit," I said. "But I do like this song . . ."

-PoM-

The lights had just come back up when Edward leaned in to ask, "Wanna go?"

"I don't mind either way. Whatever you want to do."

He nuzzled my ear. "I want you all to myself."

I didn't need to be asked twice.

"Let's go."

The lobby of the hotel was still the same when we got back. The patrons hadn't changed much, and I laughed to Edward that watching people wait to meet someone famous was a riot.

"It's not like this usually," he said, pulling me toward the elevator. "Must be because it's L.A. or something."

"Still pretty cool." I stepped in to the elevator and moved to the back, where a small pocket of space was available. "I bet you've seen some out-there stuff."

"Hmm. Yeah, I guess so." He turned his back to the other people in the elevator, moved in close to me. His voice dropped down low, almost too much so to be heard. "What I'm really wanting to see is you naked." His fingers found the inside of my thigh and inched up. The sway of the elevator made me squirm when it caused his fingers to brush against the crease of my leg.

By the time we got to our floor, he'd worked his fingers under the elastic of my panties and was inching his way in. My breath hitched, and the guy who was standing in front of us turned and stared. "Quit it," I whispered, pulling Edward's hand out from under my dress.

My face heated because the guy still hadn't turned back around, and he had this knowing grin on his face. Pervert.

I shot out of the elevator when it opened on our floor, and only turned when I heard the doors shut.

"People in this town . . ."

"Don't let them get to you, baby. You'll probably never see them again. C'mon, my room is down at the end."

"Damn it, my bag is in Rose and Em's room."

"Leave it. You're not going to need anything in it for a while."

I glanced at his profile as he walked beside me. His cheek was lifted into a knowing grin. I rolled my eyes and adopted a lofty tone. "Whatever do you mean, Edward?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

-PoM-

"God, I've missed this," Edward said, lifting his head from where it lay on my breast and placing a kiss into my cleavage.

Loving how good he felt on top of me, I smoothed his hair back from his eyes and peered into them. They were droopy, all dark from where the bags had drawn his features haggard and a little bit dull. He looked so worn out.

"I've missed it, too." I rubbed at his scalp and his eyes slid closed. "Good news is your almost done and you can come home."

What I didn't say was that I wasn't sure how long that would last. From what I'd seen of the crowd's reaction, they were definitely on their way and this tour was only the beginning. The distances might get longer, and I wasn't sure yet what to think about that, or if I might want to take a cue from Rose and head on the road with them more often.

We'd have to talk about it when it came, though. This weekend's time was drawing ever closer to an end, and I didn't want to bog it down with shit we could talk about when it came up. "Yeah," he said sleepily, burrowing into me a little further.

His weight was solid and there, and I didn't even mind that it was an uncomfortable position for me. He fell asleep to my fingers rubbing patterns over his brow, and I watched his features become peaceful before I drifted in to my own dreams.

-PoM-

I woke to a pounding at the door. Edward jerked in his sleep and then woke up, too. He looked around the room bleary eyed and confused, and then dropped his head back onto me and groaned.

"What the fuck?" he mumbled.

Another pound at the door, more insistent this time.

His elbow was digging into my kidneys and I shifted to get away from the sharp, boney appendage. "Maybe it's Emmett."

"Nah, he'd call." He raised his head and shouted, "Go the fuck away!"

The knocking did stop, but only to be replaced by a thump at the door. Weirded out, I sat up and Edward fell to the side with a groan. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just going to go look out the peephole."

"Bella, don't. It's probably a groupie or something."

I threw his shirt over my head and crept toward the door. There wasn't a face staring back at me when I checked the peephole, and I stood on my tiptoes to try and peer all around.

There was, however, a pair of shoes just visible on the hallway floor.

"Edward, there's someone out here. Whoever it is, they're passed out in front of your door.

"Jesus fu—"

He rolled out of bed and slid into his jeans, and then came to look out of the peephole, too.

"Again? Bella, watch out. I need to open the door."

"Who is it?" I asked worriedly.

He didn't answer, just nudged me gently out of the way and undid the chain. He was careful in opening the door, and a moment later I understood why.

Tyler slid backward into the room, and Edward barely had time to catch his head before it bounced on to the floor. He was so fucked up he didn't move at all, only muttered something incoherent, and I barely stifled a scream. The light of the hall highlighted his face, newly formed dreads covered in _something _I didn't want to think about.

"Oh my god, is he all right?"

Edward grabbed his jaw, rolling his face toward him. I winced when he started slapping his cheek and said, "Tyler! Ty! Wake up man."

Tyler rolled his head to the other side and groaned.

"I'm gonna get him to his room."

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" I said, leaning down to help him lift Tyler.

"I've got it," Edward said, his voice irritated.

Hurt by the tone of his voice, I pulled back and stepped away. "O—okay. Sorry, I just wanted to help."

"I'll be back in a little bit. Lock the door behind me."

Feeling sort of helpless, I waited until he'd pulled Ty up and got him walking, and then shut and locked the door. My body was pumping with adrenaline and I felt antsy so I grabbed my cigarettes, wrapped myself in the sheet, and shuffled out onto the balcony and sat in a chair to wait.

I remembered Rose saying that Tyler had been getting in to some heavy stuff, but Edward had acted like it wasn't that big of a deal. Now, though, the way Ty had acted in the backstage area took on a new meaning: where I'd thought him exhausted earlier, I wondered now if he wasted already fucked up before the show and had disappeared after to get even more torn up. I also didn't like how Edward had snapped at me when I was trying to help.

The sky was beginning to lighten when there was a knock at the door. I rushed to check the peephole, and then fumbled with the chain.

"Is he okay?"

Edward looked even more exhausted that he had earlier. "Yeah. I stuck him in the shower and made sure he was done puking and propped him up in bed. I'll check on him in a bit."

He collapsed backward on to the bed, and I gathered the sheet around me and sat beside him. I lit a cigarette and inhaled, and then held it over his face so he could hit it, too. He took a deep drag and then rubbed his hands over his face. We sat in silence for a few moments.

"Not exactly what I imagined the rest of our night would be like," he said, immediately lighting another cigarette.

I reached over and put my hand on his leg. "Yeah, that was . . . I don't even know what that was. I'm just glad he ended up here. Imagine if it was somewhere else and we couldn't find him."

Edward stared out of the balcony window. I watched as the rising sun shifted over the planes of his face, noticed how thin his cheekbones looked.

And, as much as I didn't want anything else to further drag our time together down, I had something that was bothering me that needed to be said.

"Hey, Edward?" He looked back at me. "Not to start anything, but I don't really like people yelling at me when I'm just trying to help."

"Fuck." He sat up and grabbed my face. "I'm sorry about that, really. I was freaked the fuck out and I didn't want you to touch him, Bella. He was a fucking mess. You don't need to deal with that shit."

"I know. I saw him, too. But, just . . . don't snap at me for being worried. You can want me to stay out of it, and that's fine, but it bothers me when people yell at me."

"I won't do it again," he said. "I'm sorry that I jumped down your throat. And I'm sorry our night was ruined."

I nodded, accepting his apology. Like I'd told him, it wasn't that big of a deal in the face of everything else. But he also needed to know that I wasn't going to sit there and take being treated badly, either.

"It's okay. I'm just glad we got a little time together," I said after a moment's pause.

He sat up and stood from the bed, pulling me with him. "I need a shower. Come and join me?"

"You bet," I replied, and vowed to make the best of the hours we had until I had to leave.

-PoM-

Less than twenty-four hours later I was back in Seattle and settling in to my routines again. The office of _The Rocket _was quiet this morning, and while I steeled my nerves for what I was about to do, I reminisced on the weekend.

The rest of the trip had been uneventful, thank God. The shower with Edward was a highlight, and he'd checked on Tyler afterward, and then we'd slept until noon. Jasper never made an appearance, and I was kind of glad not one second of my trip had been wasted on speaking to him.

Tyler was okay, or so said Edward, and he'd passed on an apology to me the next day when Em and Rose had checked on him.

Rose, Em, Edward and I went to a beach for a few hours and hung out in the sand talking, and then it'd been time to take me to the airport before they were to head out for the next stop in Southern California somewhere. I seriously hadn't wanted to let Edward go, and our goodbye ended up taking more time than it should.

The next three weeks couldn't go fast enough.

At least I'd had time to scribble down some thoughts on the plane for my review. I wasn't sure that Peter would take it because I was going to tell him the truth, but I'd written it anyway for the practice. It was much more difficult to set my feelings aside than I'd thought it would be, and I was interested to see what Peter thought about the piece.

When Marcus left from the meeting he and Peter had been in, I headed for my boss' door and knocked.

"Come in." He looked up. "Oh, hey, Bella."

"Hi." I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and laid my review on my lap.

"How was your trip?"

"Too quick, but well worth it. It was nice to get away. So, um, I have the article you asked me to work on."

"Great, let me see it." He reached his hand out for my folder.

"Before you read this, I need to talk to you about something first."

He sat back in his chair. "Okay, shoot."

I fidgeted with the hem of my knee-length skirt before I realized that'd make me look guilty, and then I cleared my throat. "Well, when you handed me the CD to review, I didn't tell you something I should have. And I think it's something that could possibly alter your outlook on this assignment.

He frowned and gestured for me to continue.

"The band you asked me to review? Well, I already knew of them because . . . um, the lead singer is my boyfriend."

The surprised look on his face melted into understanding, and his lips formed a thin line. "Why didn't you tell me in the beginning?"

"Honestly, I don't know why. I was shocked at first when you handed me the CD, and then I wasn't sure if I should even write the review. You said I could have time to think about it, and I did. While I realize it's a matter of ethics, and just so you know, I pride myself on being honest, I also realized that it would be a good learning experience for me. I am sorry, however, that I didn't tell you sooner than today."

He propped his chin on tented fingers and studied me. I fought to keep from glancing away from his gaze, from showing fear or meekness because I wanted him to see that I knew where I'd messed up.

"I appreciate you being honest now. You say you wrote it anyway?"

"Yes, sir. I mean Peter—sorry. I said before that I tried to go at it as a learning experience, and I meant that. It was hard to put on a neutral hat and step back from personal feelings, but I gave it a shot. If anything, even if you choose not to run it, the constructive criticism from you would be worth it.

"Let me see it."

I handed it to him across the desk, watching nervously while he began to read.

He finished it and sat back, tapping the folder in his hands.

"So, you just came back from the L.A. show?"

"Yes."

"You were only there two days?"

"I didn't want to miss any school or work."

He nodded his head and closed the folder, swapping it for a pen. The _click click click _of it in his hands was almost as nerve-wracking as waiting for his thoughts.

"You hate it."

"No, actually, I like it. Quite a bit. It was very well thought out and fair to the band. It was a little gushy over the lead singer, though."

Oh, Jesus. I'd edited it so much last night I'd barely gotten any sleep, and this morning I thought it sounded very neutral to personal feelings. But maybe not . . .

"Just kidding. No, I like your style, very honest and open on the performance and great description of the songs. You have a good ear for this stuff."

I sat back in my chair. Wow. "Thank you."

"I like it so much I might want to run it."

"Really? I mean, if it's going to cause a problem, I would understand. Even if you just wanted to mark it up and tell me where it's weak, that'd be great. "

"Don't worry about it. I'll think about it and let you know on my decision. We can rework it so you can state you're a friend of the band and make it into something fair."

"That . . . that's very fair. Thank you, Peter."

"I see a good future in this for you, Bella. You might see a few other things coming across your desk in the near future."

"I look forward to it." I stood from the chair and smiled at him gratefully, and then turned to leave the office.

Marcus was waiting just outside the door, which I only just then realized I'd left open in my rush to be honest. I tried to sidestep him, but he moved in front of me.

"So, lead singer, eh?"

I didn't want to get into my personal life with him. "Really, it's none of your business, Marcus."

"Only a matter of time," he muttered.

-PoM-

* * *

_Who wouldn't smile with reviews like that? xo_

_Alive – Pearl Jam_

_Dude._


	16. Mantel

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their __express written authorization._

* * *

**_WitFit Jan/Feb 2013_**

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Mantel

-PoM-

Sea-Tac International Airport loomed ahead in the distance before I even realized it; I glanced at my speedometer and cursed, and then checked my mirror to make sure I wasn't about to get carted off to jail before I could make my destination. Seemed I had a lead-foot today . . . but there was no way I was going to lose any time in picking up Edward.

After seeing him a couple of weeks ago in L.A. for such a brief time the separation since was worse than I thought possible.

Once I was parked, I picked my way through the sprawling airport and checked the boards constantly to make sure there wasn't a gate change—no way did I want to have to run to a completely different terminal.

The area where I was supposed to be was sort of dead—which I supposed was normal for this time of night. Edward had insisted on flying back separately from the other guys. He'd left immediately after their last show to get home sooner.

Keeping an eye on the arrivals, I paced the hall. I probably looked like a crazy person, and I was waiting on security to collar me, but I just didn't care.

The speaker overhead buzzed, told me that his flight had arrived, and I bounced in anticipation.

He was here. In the same state. In the same vicinity.

It was torturous watching the travelers come off the plane and into the terminal, but finally—finally!—my tall, too-thin but definitely gorgeous boyfriend made his way up the jetway.

His eyes were covered in shades, and he glanced casually around until he caught sight of me. I waved and watched a smile bloom on his face, and then took off running to meet him.

"You're here, you're here," I chanted, throwing my arms around his neck. He hugged me back, lifting me up a little and kissing me.

"You smell so good," he said. He set me back on my feet and grabbed his carry-on bag. "What's up with the sunglasses at night? You going retro on me?"

He laughed, still watching the bags, and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. "Nah, my eyes are bothering me, so I put these on."

I smoothed a thumb under his eyes, so red-rimmed and shadowed. "Have you slept at all?"

"A little on the plane," he said as we made our way toward baggage claim. "The flight wasn't really long enough to catch any decent sleep."

Once we were standing by the carousel, he leaned down and kissed me again, and I let it go on longer than was decent.

"Mmm. I missed that."

"Me too. Finally. There's my stuff. You ready to go home?"

"Yep. Nice thing about your flight being so late is that I'm parked really close. Let's go."

He shouldered his duffel bag and grabbed his guitar case and waited for me to lead the way.

"Here, give me your other bag," I said.

It was a purely selfish move—with the amount of things he had, I wouldn't be able to hold onto him as we walked, and I really, really wanted to be able to do that. Once we were situated, he slung an arm around my shoulder and I tucked myself into his side as we walked out of the terminal.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face as we walked. The missing part of me was home.

-PoM-

"How was the show last night?"

Edward slumped in his seat further. Poor guy looked exhausted, and I pressed down on the gas pedal to get us back to his place faster. He'd moved only once since we'd been in the car, and that was to light a cigarette and roll the hand-crank window down.

"It was different. Some crowds are picky unless you've already been nominated as 'the next up and coming thing' . . . or whatever-the-fuck. The reception was mediocre at best. But we played a good show." He took a long drag of his smoke and took his time on exhaling it.

I hummed, but didn't say anything else. Truthfully, I wanted to know about how things were going. Edward had remained tight lipped on the subject, and the only info I was getting came from Rose. She thought things were shifting internally; Tyler wasn't doing good at all and she suspected, as did I, that he'd moved on from pot and acid to heroin. If that night in L.A. had been an indicator, we were right. Jasper was, of course, on the warpath.

I decided to broach the topic. Maybe now that he was home, he'd open up.

"How's Tyler doing?"

He looked out the window. "He's all right."

And that was it.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best time to bring it up. And didn't say another word. I could tell how weary he was and thought it'd be best to not press him right now.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw that his eyes had closed, his body had relaxed. Figuring him asleep, I turned down the radio and concentrated on the drive.

Not that it helped my mind from wandering. He was so weary, and I wondered if it was just the late night or the whole situation. It had to be hard watching a friend go down a bad path. I'd just turned on to his street when his hand shifted, moving over to wrap around mine.

"I thought you'd passed out," I said.

"Nah, just thinking. We got a contract to record a full length album."

I about let go of the wheel. "You did? That's fantastic! Babe, I'm so excited! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Yeah, it's great. It's still settling in, I think. Dunno. "

"Holy shit. I knew it'd happen." I maneuvered my car into a parking spot, threw it into park. "Do you know any of the details yet? When? How? Oh my god!"

"Right now all I know is that the record company wants us to give them new material . . . and we've got about three weeks to come up with it. You know, 'start with a clean slate' or whatever it is they say."

I thought of his ever-present notebook. "Well you have tons of stuff, Edward. I can't imagine it would be too daunting."

I watched his face and tried to figure out why he seemed so . . . nonchalant about it. I personally wanted to go dance down the middle of the street.

"Yeah, but now there's pressure. Shit, I don't know." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Maybe I'm just too tired to think about it at the moment."

"Then don't. You're home. With me. Let's just go with that for now."

He let go of my hand and slid his fingers up my thigh, and I squirmed, reaching down to cover his hand with mine.

-PoM-

The scent of chicken parmesan I had prepared for him filled the apartment making it smell homey and wonderful. I buzzed around the kitchen setting plates out at the counter, and climbing up to get glasses down from the cabinet. Or, well, grabbed cups from various bars around the Seattle.

From my spot at the stove I could see him on the couch, with his legs up on the coffee table, bare-footed and freshly showered. His hair was still damp and looked dark and unruly.

I loved it longer.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A beer would be great."

The tiny moment of domestic bliss was good enough to negate the weeks spent apart. We'd been holed up in his apartment for two days, only leaving once for me to pack a bag of essentials, and when the prospect of an empty refrigerator and a half-empty bag of stale chips became too much to handle.

The idea of living together, initially something I wasn't sure of, became easier and easier to imagine all the time now.

I grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge and walked it to him. Popping the top of the can, I handed it to him and he caught my wrist and tugged me down and into his lap.

"Sit with me for a minute."

I looked back at the kitchen. "I guess it'll be okay for the moment. I don't want the food to burn."

His knees were boney, though, and digging in to my backside, I slid off his lap and folded myself under his arm. It was then that I noticed what he had sitting on the table beside him, opened up about halfway through. In a rush to get dinner started while he was in the shower, I'd neglected putting it back in to my backpack.

I admit, I tensed up a little. . . and he certainly noticed.

"What's up?"

I slid the paper off of his lap. "Something that I need to tell you."

He frowned at me. "Is it that bad?"

"Well, um, maybe? You know how much I love my internship at the paper, right?"

"Yeah." ," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Well . . . Peter asked me to do a review of a CD, to help get me some experience. So, I gave it a shot."

"So far, I'm not seeing any cause for alarm here, Bella. That sounds great. Why are you so worried about it? You know I always love your opinion about music. I've already told you I think you'd make a great critic."

I pulled my hair over my shoulder and started to pick at the dead ends. Anything to not have to see his face when I told him. "The CD they asked me to review is 'Cliff Jumping'."

"Huh." I couldn't gauge what was going on by his expression. His face turned a little serious and now I was nervous.

Cursing myself for being such a chicken-shit, I looked up because his one word answer was giving me nothing. His expression was neutral, somewhat serious, and I sighed.

"They published your review?"

"Yeah. It's in the newest issue."

He handed me the magazine. "Show me where it is?"

I already knew exactly which page it was on—I'd read it twice since picking it up. I flipped to the page, handed it back, and watched as he concentrated on the review. His cues were nothing much to go on: a frown, a small smile, a chuckle. Nervously I ran my pointer finger over my thumb nail, picked at my cuticles.

Eventually he closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table, and I waited for his reaction.

"And I . . . what did you think?"

He looked in my direction, shook his head, and then stopped my hands from the fidgeting. "You're the most ridiculous person I know. First off, you know I always like your opinion on music. You know what you're talking about." He slid his fingers in between mine. "It's a good review. You said up-front your knowledge of the band and us guys, and it was fair. No sugar coating, which I liked. Great job, babe."

I smiled slowly. "Really?"

"Well, Jasper might be a little pissed. How did you put it? 'A beautifully gifted guitar player with self-obssessive tendencies aside, who spends his time on stage completely wrapped in his own head—and it shows in the power of the chords'." He threw back his head and laughed. "Dead on, Bella. But you know he's gonna get fucking stupid about that."

I threw up my hands. "I know! That line was maybe, possibly ruder the first time I wrote it. Will you save me if he tries to throw me in the Sound? Peter helped me rearrange some things and showed me where my 'personal feelings' were evident and we cleaned that bit up. But he did say said it was excellent start for my first try."

"You did great. And don't worry. If Jasper says anything to you, I'll lay him out for fucking with my girl."

His lips met mine, and I smiled against them. I'd worried for nothing, and I probably should know better than that by now. Edward was as supportive of me as I was him, and generally pretty laid-back, anyway.

I let him kiss me for a minute before putting my hands on his chest and stopping it before it went too far. said, "He did tell me my original copy was too gushy about the lead singer . . .though."

"Hmm." He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. "So, you were waxing poetic about the lead singer, huh? Do I have to lay this guy out, too?And you know this singer?"

"Oh, yes, I do. Very, very well. I might be sad if his face got messed up."

"Always the way with you females, isn't it? More concerned about looks than anything else."

I laughed. "It's true. And he does have the nicest face in all the land . . ." I leaned in to kiss him again but jumped back when the buzzer on the stove went off. "Shit! The bread!"

I hopped up and nearly careened into the faux mantel; his laughter followed me as I and disappeared into the kitchen.

-PoM-

We sank back into a routine again, and it felt fantastic. Initially Edward , he slept a lot. I'd just get up and head to school or work, making sure not to disturb him on the way out. After about a week or so I'd come home and find him in the living room working on songs. That, I knew, was his happy place, and I was so glad to see him shake the dust off.

Jasper had been calling every day to see what the status was on new songs, and it was easy to see Edward was getting annoyed by that.

One day, I walked in to the apartment after grocery shopping to find Tyler and Edward camped out on the couch and working on something I'd never heard before.

"Hey, Ty!" I said as I walked into the room. I set the groceries in the kitchen and returned to the living room. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are you?"

"Hey, Bella. I'm good."

And he did look better, like he'd actually gotten some rest. Still didn't help me from watching him closely, cataloguing what I thought I knew against what I did.

The differences worried me.

He looked okay, like he had also gotten some rest but I was still worried. Without wanting to interrupt, I left them to their thing and got the groceries put away, pulled some deli meat to make lunch. The sound of them playing was a peaceful backdrop to slicing lettuce and tomatoes, and I listened with a keen ear to the new lyrics.

They were different than those on _Cliff Jumping, b_ut in a good way. More introspective, yearning.

"I'm gonna jet man." At Tyler's words I looked up, saw that he was packing his things up.

"You're leaving already? Don't let me run you out. I'm making sandwiches; I can make you one, too."

"Nah, I have to get going anyway. Gotta pick up Lauren before I head down. But thanks." He crossed to the doorway I was standing in and gave me a hug. He felt insubstantial, thinner than before and like his bones might break if I held him too tightly.

He broke away and nodded at Edward. I'll see you at the Dutchman."

"Yep. We'll be there."

He gave Edward a two finger wave and headed out the door.

"The Dutchman?"

"Yeah, we booked rehearsal space there prior to the recording date to get shit together before the recording date. We only have three weeks until we head to Milwaukee."

I stopped breathing for a second. Since when was freaking _Wisconsin_ a part of the plan? I certainly didn't recall it being brought up in any recent conversations.

"Milwaukee?"

"Yeah. We're going to record there."

"Oh. And you didn't think it'd be worth mentioning?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I swear, I told you."

"Nope, don't recall it." I went back in to the kitchen, but I wasn't hungry any longer. I grabbed a soda instead and went to stand at the window. It was grey outside, foggy and gross and it would probably rain soon. Which somehow felt perfect.

It was stupid to be so upset; I'd known things were going to start moving fast and that I'd have to get used to the idea, but his not telling me that he was leaving, again, wasn't exactly copacetic, either.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders that in truth provided more comfort than irritation than comfort at the moment.

"Everything's been such a blur. You know it's not something I would deliberately keep from you."

I hummed. "Yeah, sure. Things like that are important, though, Edward. Same as finding out you got a record deal and waiting to tell me. There's a lot going on right now and it's starting to come hard and fast, and I'd really like to not be the last one to know."

He turned me around. "I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to leave you in the dark. I'll try not to do that again. You know, no matter how hard it gets, you and me? We'll always be okay."

Deciding to let go of the mad because fighting with him wasn't something I particularly wanted to do, I slid my arms around his waist and prayed that we always would.

-PoM-

* * *

_Sorry for my dirty laundry... errors fixed._

_Sappy - Nirvana_

_Thank you BT!_


	17. Shield

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: ** Shield

**Binding Blurb: **Love at first site

-PoM-

Sprawled on the floor in front of the couch, I was immersed in end-of-the-year studying, rifling through old notebooks and rechecking textbooks against a practice exam someone in one of my journalism classes had made up. _Temple Of the Dog's _CD, which I was currently obsessed with, provided a soundtrack to my day.

Because it was nice outside I'd thrown open the windows to let the start-of-summer breeze wash away some of the accumulated winter staleness of my apartment. I didn't even care that my papers rustled in the wind, either. A dose of good, solid Vitamin D could do wonders for a person's mood, and with everyone gone, I needed it right about then.

The lock on the door clicked and I looked up in surprise.

"Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you'd stay until they were finished."

"Well, I live here, don't I?" Rose set her suitcase down and shut the door. "Damn, I'm glad to be home. _And_ I'm glad to see you here. I missed your ass."

"Yeah, I've been camped here since you left. It still feels weird to stay at Edward's place when he's gone."

"Well, I need some girl time, that's for sure. I've had enough of the boys to last me awhile. Even Emmett was driving me crazy. I felt like a flippin' babysitter the whole time I was in Milwaukee."

I gathered my papers into a pile and set my backpack on them to weight them down. "Are they acting like fools? Is that why you came back so soon?"

"Eh, kind of. They're working hard, but it's also like putting ten year old boys in a room with no parents to watch them. Pranks and bickering, dirty clothes and shitty food. Besides, I have to get their bookings shored up. It's smart to get them on the road as soon as possible to promote the album; I even got them into Grunge Fest this summer."

"Nice. I landed a press pass for all three days."

"That'll be fun then. We can hang out and see some different bands."

"Yeah. Peter gave me the easiest assignment: I basically have to write the set list of the bands I watch and give a few blurbs on each to round it out."

"Right on. That sounds pretty cool."

I scooted up on to the couch and waited until she collapsed with her head in my lap to start the grilling. "How are the guys doing as a whole? Edward doesn't give me much when he calls."

She sighed, shutting her eyes when I began to braid a chunk of her hair. "Honestly? He probably doesn't want to burden you with all of the crap. No lie, it was a circus at first. Tyler's impossible to keep on track."

"He's not doing any better?"

"Nope. The first few weeks he was either fucked up majorly, or just buzzed enough to function when they absolutely needed him to. One day he was locked in the bathroom for a couple of hours and they had to work around it until they couldn't. Edward finally got him out."

Opposing memories invaded: Tyler on the first night, shy and sweet and offering me a toke; that day in Edward's apartment, him all thin and out of it and jonseing to go _see _Lauren.

My heart broke at her words. "It's that bad?"

She opened her eyes, looked at me, and I didn't like what I saw there. "I don't know, chick. I just . . . I don't know."

"It sounds like he needs some help."

"That's the shitty part. Until he breaks a law or they give him an ultimatum, he won't go. It's hard to watch. It's like they've created this shield around him. They love him, ya know? There's no way they'd toss him out of the band, but you can't even mention rehab without everybody losing it. They're trying to deal with it internally, right or wrong." "

"I don't understand why they'd let it spiral so far out of control."

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "Things seemed to be getting better when I left. I honestly think a lot of it has to do with Lauren. Any time she's around, he goes on a bender. She was on the road with us the week before you came to L.A. and he was with her while they were back. I just _know _she made sure he was supplying them both. Fucking leech. She didn't go with him to Milwaukee, though, and I think he's depleted his stash, so he's getting back to normal. I wouldn't have left if he wasn't doing better."

I nodded, but I was far from agreeing. "How's everything else going?"

"Seems to be copacetic. Jasper's a tyrant, but, for the most past, they're all kind of on the same page on the way they want this to go. They've hit this groove that's outrageous—sounds, lyrics, just . . . whoa. The new material is fucking amazing."

"Well," I said dryly, "at least they're not dysfunctional."

"Oh, it's dysfunctional all right, but they're a dysfunctional family. They'll make it work."

-PoM-

Later that night the phone woke me from a deep sleep. I clicked on my bedside light, stole a glance at the clock: two a.m.—unless there was an emergency, it could only be one person.

"'lo?"

"Hey, babe."

His voice settled in to the empty spaces in my body, a comfort I'd been aching for. "Hi. How are you?"

"Fucking beat." There was the clink of a glass, the rush of pouring liquid in the background.

"It's later there than here, right? You're on a different time schedule."

"Yeah, I think it's two hours ahead. It's four in the morning here. We just got back to our rooms from the studio."

My eyes had drifted closed once more; I sat up against my headboard so I wouldn't fall back asleep. "It's only two here. Damn, late night. How did it go?"

"It went." From the tone of his voice, the subject was closed. I wondered if the things I'd talked about earlier with Rose was the reason for the shortness. "I'd rather talk about you."

I chuckled. "I'm really not that interesting. You, though, Mr. Rockstar, are recording an album."

"I think you're interesting. Tell me about what's going on back home. How're things at the paper? School goin' okay?"

"School is good. I've got finals and then I'm done for the summer, so that's lots of studying to do. And the paper is awesome. Peter's been giving me more and more things to do, and I love it all. I'm even getting a press pass to cover parts of Grunge Fest in July."

He laughed, all low and throaty and I wished he was beside me right now. "Nice. What's that Marcus prick think about that?"

"Ugh. That guy is such a tool. Everyone hates him, I swear. He threw this big hissy fit in the middle of a meeting that most of the staff was at, and he looked like a total ass. Peter got pissed. But, good news is, our circulation is kind of exploding at the moment and I think I might get asked to stay on for the summer."

"That sounds great." His voice was deep and gravelly, bordering on sleepy.

"Are you ready to pass out? You sound so tired."

"No. Not yet. Talk to me."

"I am talking. What else do you want to know about?"

From his end of the line there was the sound of a lighter flicking, the deep inhale as he took the first drag of a cigarette. I pictured him propped up in bed like me, maybe shirtless, with smoke curling around his features like clinging fog. "You could tell me what color panties you're wearing."

Even though no one was around to hear his words, my face flamed. "Pervert."

"Only for you, baby. Only for you."

"Smooth talker. Sorry, but I'm nowhere cool enough to have phone sex. Next topic, please."

"It was worth a try. You could always stroke my ego, since I won't be stroking anything tonight, and tell me why you love me."

That made me go on the alert—not that I was embarrassed to talk to him about that, but more that he wasn't the most touchy-feely sort of guy. It also made my heart flutter because, if he was wanting to be all girly-talk and romantic, I thought that must mean he was missing me as much as I missed him.

"You want to talk about that? Why?"

"Because I need to hear it."

"Okay, then, you asked for it. I love you because you're you, and I like the person I am when I'm with you. Plus, you're really, really cute."

"Even when I'm always away from you? Because, honestly, it's the one thing that bothers me."

The raw honesty in the tone of his voice was both thrilling and hard to hear. On one hand, getting a glimpse in to his thoughts, which sometimes seemed too easy-going from the outside, was rare. That he seemed worried and in need of reassurance let me know that he wanted to keep a hold of me, too.

On the other hand, though, it made me wish I was someone like Rose who could drop what I was doing and just go to him. But I wasn't—there was so much I wanted to do on my own, too, things that were also (almost) as important to me as Edward was.

"I don't mind it as much as I used to," I said.

"But you did used to?"

"Um, well, at first I did. Not saying that it's easy, because most of the time it sucks, but when you call me and I get to talk to you it makes it easier. I like knowing you make time for me."

"I wish you were here right now. I hate not seeing you when I want to."

"Me, too."

We were silent for a few minutes, just breathing into the receivers.

"You're doing a pretty damn good job at ego stroking, baby. Give me some more."

"What else do you want to hear?" I was in the mood to be open now, especially if he was reciprocating.

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Maybe I always knew, I don't know, but I do know when I absolutely realized and admitted it to myself. It was when you were on tour, and I knew that if missing someone hurt that bad it had to be love."

Silently, I marveled at the shifting of a person that time and experience brought. From a girl who'd been so scared at her taste of real passion to one who could talk about things without running away, I had changed. The reasons I loved him were innumerable and vast, but, perhaps, the fact that I'd learned so much about myself as a result of finding him again was the top reason.

I'd gone into our time in Phoenix with wonder and excitement, and had left with my first frisson of heartbreak. I'd sheltered myself from it afterward, insistent that I knew what I wanted of my next try. But I hadn't really known—and, really, no one ever knows what they can stand until they go through it. And there'd been stumbling blocks during this second time together that were hard, and I'd maybe not always handled them correctly, but in messing up I had learned what not to do.

The time and separation was never going to be easy, but I knew now what I needed to do to fight to come out on the other side with Edward next to me. Maybe love at first sight was just for books and movies. Real love, the kind that mattered, was earned and fought for, and worth it, at least in my mind. Emotion bubbled up in my throat and I took a deep breath to clear it.

"I love you so much," I said.

"I love you, too, Bella." He paused for a second. "You're my life now."

His declaration, no matter how simple, was perfection.

I took a shaky breath. "Now your turn. When did you know?"

"That night on your porch, when I had to leave you the very first time. I was so pumped and happy to go, but I took one look at your face when we got to your apartment, and I realized what I was leaving behind. And I swear, I had a hard time making myself leave you."

I remembered that night, the way he'd made sure I wasn't teary-eyed and a soggy mess before he'd left me. That he'd stayed with me and had probably caught hell from Jasper for doing so.

I smiled, tucking the phone under my ear. "I had no idea. I just thought you were trying to make me feel better."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a fucking pansy. I stayed until I knew I couldn't, and then I counted down the days until I got to see you again."

I loved listening to his words, found a sad sense of fascination in the vulnerability in his voice. It only happened when he was exhausted, drunk . . . or maybe both.

Right then, it seemed we both needed the comfort of knowing someone loved you.

"Where I stop, you begin. Our hands, extensions of each other, reaching to find . . ."

"That's beautiful. It'd make a nice lyric . . ."

He yawned loudly. "Too bad I didn't write it down."

"Don't worry, I will. I'll remember every word. You, though, need to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Probably should. Got another session starting at ten." He paused, yawning once more. "Love you . . . "

"I love you, too. And I'll talk to you soon."

I placed the receiver on the base of the phone and brought my hand back to place over my heart, full to bursting, and it was the best feeling I'd ever known.

-PoM-

* * *

'_Part Of Me' has been added to the poll for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand.__ Head over and vote for your favorites at __tehlemonadestand. net Voting is open for two more days._

_Many apologies for the initial post that appeared yesterday. I thank you for hanging in there with me._

_I'll try to do review replies sometime this week. Every last word means the world._

_Song – Times of Trouble – Temple of the Dog _

_TY Nic for finding a way to bring me an even better song than I imagined. I heart you more than words._


	18. Fever

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Fever

**Dialogue Flex: **"you can't please everyone."

-PoM-

If I thought I'd seen it all when it came to concerts, Grunge Fest—and more specifically my view from Edward's band's set—blew that notion out of the water. It was, to put it simply, insane.

They'd been slotted into the festival-type show directly in the middle of the day, not too early in the day-long event to only have the die-hards in the audience but not late enough that the late afternoon chill had started to settle. The sun was high (which made me glad I'd worn a sundress), the beer flowed like water, and things were just starting to get rowdy.

From our vantage point of stage left, Rose and I had a perfect spot to take in both the show and the teeming throng of concert-goers spread out in front of the stage. Those bodies were currently feeding off of the energy the guys were giving, and sending it back to them tenfold.

The speakers next to us were loud, and Rose and I shouted at each other occasionally to be heard over both the music and the pieces of foam shoved in our ears.

Still flying high on wrapping the album and having it sent into production, our guys played at a fever pitch, giving the crowd a testosterone fueled set of hard ass rock. Shirtless save for Tyler, jeans slung low and sweat a sheen covering their skin, they owned the stage.

Even Jasper, so controlled usually, was into it. He bent low over his guitar, sunglasses perched precariously on his long nose and nodding in time to the beat of the songs. Tyler hung in the shade of the amps, his long sleeved white t-shirt drenched and sticking to his body. Ben and Emmett seemed to feed off each other, thrashing and banging their way on the stage, and they met often at the drum kit to give as good a show as they were getting from the audience.

But Edward . . . he was electrifying. Front and center, arms stretched to the side with his guitar waiting to join in on the fun, was a hell of a frontman. Amplified by the speakers and open air, his voice washed out over the sundrenched, alcohol infused crowd.

I didn't know of it was the thrill of playing at home or the knowledge gleaned by watching the band they'd toured with at the start of the year, or maybe even a combination of both, but they were incredible today.

"This is so goddamn awesome!"

The smile on my face was already huge, but it got bigger as I pulled my attention off of the stage. "Look at the crowd, Rose. They're so in to them!"

"I know! Holy shit, this is excellent."

"Coming through!"

We moved aside for a tech, the only serious face I could see. He'd been on cord patrol the entire show, and with the way Ben kept running around like a hyperactive kid on speed he had his work cut out for him in making sure nothing got tangled.

The sea of people out in front swarmed in the pit, hoisting each other in to the air and passing them forward toward the stage. Security guards in bright yellow shirts were busy keeping the crowdsurfers from the stage when they finally made it—they tried to rush the stage to slap a hand or just do a little dance of their own before they were deposited to the side of the pit.

"He's back again, oh my god!"

I cracked up with Rose as the scrawny kid from two songs earlier made it back on to the stage. He jumped high, fists in the air, and then pulled up his shirt to show the crowd a concave, lily-white chest. Security grabbed him before he could touch Edward, currently giving everything he had on the mic.

"Five bucks that he's back again," I shouted.

"Deal."

"How much longer do they have?"

Rose checked her watch and I glanced out at the crowd, making a face when a brunette sitting on someone's shoulders lifted her shirt to flash the guys, too.

"Little less than fifteen minutes. If this keeps up, the later bands are going to have zombies for audience members."

I nodded, agreeing, and got lost in watching Edward again. The impact of today's show felt huge, and I tried to memorize everything for the write up I was expected to turn in, but it was hard to do when I got just as lost as the crowd.

Rose bumped me in the ribs with her elbow. "Two o'clock. Look."

I followed her finger to the area backstage swarming with other bands, industry people, and those connected to the Fest. Tanya stood not a hundred yards away in a small group of people, her head thrown back in laughter and hanging on the arm of some guy. My eyes narrowed.

"Great. Just made my day."

"Don't worry about her. She's been showing up lately with that guy. She hasn't made a lick of contact. His band is making a name for themselves, so she probably doesn't give a shit anymore. New star to fuck and all that."

"Can't help it—I can't stand her. I'd take ten groupies over her any day."

"Fuck her. Who cares?"

Well, for one, I did. Her crap that night in the bathroom still bothered me. Edward and I hadn't done exactly right by her, but her words were nasty and rude when I'd clearly been willing to drop it. I watched her for a few more moments until she turned toward the stage and caught me staring. Her expression didn't change but she stared me down, too.

Not in the mood to engage her, I turned back to the stage to see Edward talking to the crowd.

"_This next song is dedicated to anyone who has that one person in their lives that they could not fucking live without . . ." _

With his hand on the mic, he turned to where I was standing and gave me a smile that made me forget about the bitch behind me.

-PoM-

The crowd wasn't ready for the set to be over. When the last chord had died out they went wild, screaming for more. But, because it was a festival and there were other bands waiting to take the stage, we'd only been allotted a certain amount of time. Sadly, a smattering of boos followed them off the stage as they left.

Rose immediately took off with Emmett, and Edward, a smile on his face that was infectious, grabbed my hand as he exited the stage and he led me down the stairs into the backstage area.

"I'm gonna grab a beer. Want anything?"

I held up my bottle of water. "No. I'm going to stick to this. I have a couple of more bands to see yet."

He shrugged his shoulders, leaned down to kiss my hair, and took off to head over to the makeshift bar. I grimaced and wiped my forehead where his sweaty chest had touched me, and I looked around for a place to stand where he would be able to see me. Filler music piped over the speakers as the tech crew did their thing breaking down the equipment for the next band.

Standing off to the side was Tyler, alone and smoking a cigarette, and looking like he was ready to bolt.

I made a beeline to where he was standing. I'd been preoccupied with getting the term finished and settling in to my new summer job at the magazine, so I hadn't really been able to talk to him as much as I would have liked. I missed his sense of humor, that soft side that made me feel welcome as opposed to Jasper's standoffishness.

"Hey," I said, touching his arm. "That was a kick ass show."

He gave me a smile that looked genuine, though I couldn't see his eyes as they were hidden behind dark sunglasses. I hoped it reached there, too.

"Thanks. That means a lot coming from you, Bella. Oh, I read your review a while ago. You're a good writer."

I ducked my head. "Jasper wasn't happy about it."

"Fuck him. It was a good review. He thought so too, even if he won't say it. I noticed him moving around today; not such a statue now that you pointed it out, is he?"

"Huh. I noticed that too, actually." I shrugged, and then leaned against the side of a trailer. "That makes me feel a little better. Thanks, Ty."

Even with the summer sun the past few weeks, fickle for this time of year but definitely there, he was so pale and his skin was moist with perspiration. The question that had been gnawing at me bubbled up, and I took the opportunity of time alone to ask it.

"You doing okay?"

"I'm great," he said, showing me his usual goofy grin. His fingers flexed in front of him and he stuffed them into his pockets and began rocking from foot to foot.

"I'll be honest, I'm worried about you."

The grin faded. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"I just know that—"

"I'm. Fine. Really. Nothing to worry about. I got it handled. And when I don't, I'll do something about it," he said in a tone I wasn't used to hearing from him.

The words rang false in my ears. I knew all too well that nothing would happen—any of us might talk at him until we were blue in the face, but I knew he wouldn't go.

"Besides, things are going great. Ed's got everything handled. He's a brilliant song writer. We've been using his material more lately, and the crowd seemed to love it."

Something about those words made me sad, and I rushed to reassure him. "Yeah, but so are you. I still listen to the EP all the time. Those lyrics . . ."

"Eh, my stuff is all right. I just write what I know. He writes from his fucking soul." He scratched at the skin of his elbow beneath his t-shirt, probably itchy from the shirt that wasn't anywhere near dry; by the looks of him, it wouldn't be in this heat.

"You helped, too, though. The material you guys came up with after the tour is phenomenal. No one writes a collab like that."

"S'all him," he said, nodding his head. I'd never really noticed how much Tyler might have looked up to Edward, but I suddenly understood. It was there in his words, in the way his defensiveness had eased up some.

"Let me know if you need anything?"

"What I need, no one can give me and for what it's worth, I can't please everyone." Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he wiped his hand over it. "Just gotta make it day by day."

I stood and watched him and he avoided my eyes.

"Hey, Bella, I, uh, need to take off. I'll catch ya later?"

"Sure, just take care of yourself."

"I will. I always do." His arms wrapped around my shoulders in a hug that made me want to hang on to his lithe frame a little while longer. He was my friend, and I just wanted him to be okay.

Someone calling his name made him step back, and I looked over to the gate that separated the backstage area from the rest of the concert. Lauren stood waiting on the other side, cigarette dangling from lips smeared with dark red lipstick. She waved at me and I returned it after a moment's hesitation, and then watched as he walked over to disappear with her into the crowd.

That girl was trouble personified.

The touch of a hand to the small of my back broke me from dark thoughts, and I turned my head over my shoulder to see Edward.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"I just told him I was worried about him."

"We all are." Someone stopped to congratulate Edward on their set and I watched as he handled himself like a true professional. When he was done, he took my hand and led me toward the exit.

"All right, Miss Magazine Writer. What band are we heading to see?"

"Pink Scissors."

"Nice. Sounds like an angry girl band."

"It is."

"Am I gonna get bombarded by their female fans for being one of the only dudes there?"

"If you only knew. . ."

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you for letting me know that you voted over at tehlemonadestand FOTW poll! So many goods stories!_

_Song - Heaven Beside You – Alice In Chains_

_That BT girl is so, so cool._


	19. Drape

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**

**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**

**Word Prompt:** Drape, grape, scrape

-PoM-

"Hey, Bella, would you come into my office when you're done?"

I glanced up from the article I was proofing for an office friend in a time crunch. "Sure, Peter. Gimme just . . . a . . . sec." I finished the page I was on, flipped it to the next, and rose from my chair, scraping the legs on the old wooden floor.

Even though I was still proofing my fair share of the work, I'd come to appreciate this place so much more than the store and was glad Edward convinced me to quit. The pay wasn't much better, but it felt nice to want to go in to work.

Edward was always offering to pay for things, and sometimes I let him, but I just liked paying my own way. While things with the record hadn't taken off quite yet, there was money flowing in from shows and he had some left from the advance, too, so we were both doing pretty good right now.

I walked into Peter's office and took a seat. My boss looked wiped; puffy bags under his eyes and he'd skipped a button on his shirt today.

"How're Charlotte and the baby doing?"

"They're doing great. Not getting a lot of sleep of course but it's been good." He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I figured. You might want to . . . um, check your shirt."

He looked down and cursed; I snickered. "Well, that's embarrassing. Remind me to go fix that when you get ready to go back to your desk. Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about were your reviews from Grunge Fest."

I put on a serious face. "Were they okay?"

"Great, actually. We've gotten some good feedback on them from our focus groups—they really like your style, Bella. I think you're above par on where I needed you to be when I offered you this job."

"Oh! Thank you, really. That's such a cool thing to hear. And thank you for letting me help on reviewing the Fest. It was such a fun article to 'research' and write afterward."

"Those sorts of shows are always great. If my wife hadn't been busy delivering a baby . . ."

"You'd have been all over it, right? I had fun, though. Still not sure why they put Safe House on the bill, but . . . what do I know?"

"That sort of things happens all the time with the bigger shows. Bands get dropped or axed, have to pull out for some reason or another, and they add in with what's available. They didn't really fit in, but the rest of the ticket was pretty sweet."

"Sure was."

"I understand your guys were quite a hit."

"Yeah." Although I tried to keep it cool when talk of Edward's band came up at the office, I couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading. We were all still riding the wave of awesome that day had brought on, and the guys had heard back from their label about a lot of positive press as a result. "They put on a phenomenal show."

"So I've heard," he said distractedly, rummaging around his desk for something. He grabbed a red folder, opened it. "While we're rolling at the height of this thing, I want to cover some more of the local bands. There are a lot of them out there, and quite a few are poised for the big leagues. This is where you come in . . ."

"Okay?" I was excited at the prospect of doing something new. Nerves vibrated like guitar strings in my stomach.

He passed me some papers from the folder: group shots, a few press releases. "This one in particular has been gaining some ground. I'd like you to check them out and do an interview with their lead singer. Know anything about Vertical Fish?"

I nodded, remembering the awful night Emmett had played a gig with them. "I do, a little. It's been a long time since I went to one of their shows, though."

"You have a basic knowledge of them, then. Excellent. They've got a show coming up next week and I have passes for it. Go check it out, set up a time to interview some guy named" —he peered at the paper in his hands—"James."

A vague memory of that night and a guy in the band I wasn't familiar with surfaced. I knew the other guys in the band in passing, so I figured that plus the press pass would get me what I needed.

"Well, that's all I have for now. Now, get out of here so I can fix my shirt. Got an editorial to finish and then I'm ducking out early. If you need me for anything, I'll be at home on Daddy Duty."

I laughed. "I think I'll be okay. Besides, I know Marcus would love to help me if I get stuck."

"Yeah, good luck with that. Look, I know he's not the easiest guy to get along with right now, but he's a damn good editor. He's going through a nasty divorce and sometimes his judgment isn't always the best. Don't let him bother you."

"I . . . I didn't know that," I said, feeling bad for complaining about a coworker. Even though I'd said it in jest, I shouldn't have said it to my boss. "I'll keep that in mind from now on, though. And I'll get to work on the Vertical Fish research. Thanks, Peter."

He nodded, his normal casual dismissal, and I left the room feeling like I understood Marcus just a little bit better . . . and excited for my new assignment.

-PoM-

I rushed to Edward's place after work to tell him all about my day.

It felt silly, but I was strangely disappointed he hadn't brought up the living together thing again since he'd been home. I stayed at his place most nights, but it was his apartment, and he'd have to be the one to ask.

There was also the fact that they were slated to leave in less than twenty-four hours for the East Coast that kept the topic from crossing my lips. Edward's place was still scary when I was alone.

They had some dates lined up with a bigger band and a stop in New York City for some promotion of the upcoming album. This time around, I was okay with him leaving. Maybe it was just knowledge of how these things had gone the past two times, or maybe it was because we'd been on such a good wavelength.

I wasn't sure, but I did know I felt so much more connected to him since the trials of separation, and the way we'd fit together so easily once he was back gave me the courage to accept that we were going to be okay.

Tyler even seemed to be doing better. No one had seen Lauren around since the festival show, and he was starting to revert back to someone I actually recognized. He stayed for dinner some nights, bullshitting with Edward and me, and it eased some of the worry that had clouded my head since the L.A. show.

Not even paying attention to the drunk guy on the third floor that regularly hung out on the landing, I bounded up the stairs and opened the door. Normally, Edward would be sitting on the couch and immersed in his notebook and guitar, or one of the guys would be over, but the apartment was empty.

"Hello? You here?" I checked the bathroom and the kitchen, headed to the bedroom.

No dice.

I shrugged and tossed my bag on to the bed, glanced at the open suitcase lying next to the dresser, and flopped backward on to the bed. I was just kicking off the heels I'd worn to work when I heard the front door open.

"I'm back here," I called.

He paused in the hallway, hands over his head and resting on the lip of the doorframe. "That's a sight I like to see," he said, all low voiced and suggestive.

I ignored it. "Where were you?"

He sighed. "Taking out the garbage."

He moved in to the room and dropped down on the bed, too, head on my legs and feet on the floor. I threaded my hands in to his hair, rubbed his hairline like I knew he liked.

"I missed you today," I said. "Thought about you all day long."

He turned his head, and those pretty green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at me. "That's the sort of thing I like to hear."

My eyes found the suitcase again and I sat up carefully, trying not to jostle him, and leaned over him. "Of course you do." I kissed him then, sweet and slow, and it was the best sort of hello.

"Wow. I kind of like being a domesticated rocker if I get this every time you walk in the door."

"Mmm," I mumbled, kissing him again.

There was the slightest tinge of whiskey on his tongue. Where the taste would have made me gag a year ago, it was something I equated to him now. He kissed me back, arms rising to drape awkwardly over my shoulders so he could tangle his fingers in my hair.

We went on like that for a few minutes until I laughed and sat back. "That's just uncomfortable," I said.

"Yeah, not the smoothest way to kiss."

We settled back to our original position, and he stroked the inside of my calf with his thumb. "How was your day?"

"So freaking rad," I said.

"You're excited about something."

"Maybe." I held my fingers in front of his face, formed a C with my thumb and pointer finger. "Just a little."

He twisted his body to look at me, propping his elbow to the side of my thigh and his chin in his hand. "So, tell me about it."

"Well . . . I kind of got my first big assignment today."

"That's great. What is it?"

"Peter wants me to go see one of the local bands and get an interview set up. I'm stoked."

"Anyone I know?"

"Vertical Fish."

His eyes tightened. "Huh. You interviewing the entire band?"

"I mean, I might, if I think it'll round out the piece, but for right now I just have to talk to someone named James. You know him?"

He sat up quick. "Nope. No fucking way. You're not doing it."

"Excuse me?"

"That guy's a fucking douchebag. He's not the lead they started out with. Emmett used to play with them sometimes before he took over, and now he won't go near them."

"Well, that's all interesting news, but it's not really got anything to do with the review I'm supposed to write. I've been around jerks before, Edward. I know how to handle them."

He leaned forward, got close to me. "That guy likes to play the rock star card and bang any chick that gets within five feet of him. There's no way you're going around him."

"Well, I'm not going on a date with him. I just need to see a show and then ask him a few questions."

"Not a good idea."

"I have to go. The assignment was given to me; this is my job."

"Fucking take someone with you then. Get Leah to go. She won't put up with his shit."

More than being angry that he was telling me where I could and could not go—and I was plenty pissed about that—the fact that he'd reacted as if he didn't trust me set my teeth on edge.

"You know, that's really fucking rich. How often do I have to put up with some skanky chick trying to get your attention or rubbing all up against you? And I don't say shit about it because it's part of the territory and I learned to deal with it. And you wanna know why? Because I trust you. But I guess you can't say the same about me."

I pushed off the bed and went to stand by the dresser. My arms immediately crossed in front of me, and I stared at him, waiting for his reply.

He said nothing, just stared back with a stubborn set to his shoulders.

"Why do you think I can't handle myself?"

"Because I know what that fucker is like." The words exploded from his mouth like angry missiles.

"And you think I can't deal with it?"

"It doesn't matter if you can or not. I would prefer you didn't deal with him at all."

I clenched my teeth together, working the muscles around my jaw. "So, you're telling me what to do now? Awesome."

"Can't you just interview someone else or the whole band together?"

"That's not my assignment! Peter wants an interview with this James guy, and my job depends on me doing the tasks set before me. If I can work around it, I will, but I have to get this interview."

He stood from the bed and brushed past me. It took me a few minutes to calm down enough to even move, but then I followed him out. He was standing in the kitchen, cupboard open behind him and the bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Seriously? You're so mad you need a drink?"

He turned to glare at me. "If I want a drink, I'll take a fucking drink." He drained his glass and poured another.

Hot tears clouded my vision. Frustrated and mad, I turned on my heel and stalked back to the bedroom. My nerves felt like a grape being squeezed, just on the cusp of popping and making a mess, and so I grabbed my book bag and begun digging around under the bed for my shoes. Running was a bad answer, I knew that deep down, but right now I wanted to get away before we said something that couldn't be taken back.

"Where are you going?"

I hadn't heard him follow me, but I didn't turn around. "To my place. I need to get some work done."

"Fuck!"

At his shout I finally looked up, saw that he no longer had a tumbler in his hand.

"Don't go."

I slammed my bag back down on the floor, sat on the bed, and stared at him. "I'm not going to try to have a discussion with you if you're pissed off and drinking. It won't be positive."

My chest heaved in and out, too tight to be comfortable. The urge to flee was still there and nagging at me to just go already, but I pushed it down because that was an old habit I had been working on breaking. He rubbed his hands over his face and then crossed the room to sit beside me. "We have to leave tomorrow and I don't want things left like this when I do."

I held my body stiff, fighting the easy way out of just sinking in to him and letting it all go, because, if I did and didn't let him know what he'd said had bothered me, we couldn't figure this out and move forward.

An errant tear escaped and I sniffled, trying not to show the emotion.

"Don't do that. Don't cry."

"I'm a girl. We cry sometimes."

"That was pretty shitty of me."

My emotions felt like a pressure cooker full of volatile ingredients that didn't mix well. Anger because I was pissed he didn't trust me. Happy that I even had my job in the first place and that I was doing so well at it. Hurt because my job was important to me and he knew that. Sad because they were leaving again and now our last night together was going to be tense. And I was scared half to death because all of the warring emotions were too much right now.

My breath hitched as I tried to speak. "I need you to trust me. Trust me that I am not going anywhere or going to let anything affect us. If you don't, we're going to have problems we don't need."

He grabbed my chin gently, stroked his fingers over it until I looked at him. "I do. I overreacted, I know this. But, Bella, you're mine, all right? And I don't want anyone to touch something that belongs to me. I know that asshole, and I know he'll try."

"I can handle myself," I said, again, and took a big breath. "But, if it will make you feel better, I'll take someone with me, okay?"

"Sometimes I think I must be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world, do you know that?"

I nodded, allowing that, because, really, I had the right to tell him off and walk out the door if I chose to. But I also knew where that would lead, and it wasn't something I wanted.

Pulling my face in to his, he kissed my jaw, behind my ear. His lips moved to my temple and into my hair.

He spoke against my skin. "I love you, Bella. It's why I act crazy sometimes. You gotta know that."

"I do," I said reaching up to touch his cheek. "I feel the same, you know?"

Then there were no words. There were hands and lips and whispers of breath over skin; the click of buttons as he moved his hands down my front and then the swish of fabric hitting the floor.

Disposing of his shirt, too, I ran my hands down his chest and traced the patterns of vibrant ink on top of skin. The awful feeling from earlier was kissed away by his lips, discarded with nips of teeth and slips of tongue until I calmed completely under his touch, melted into a puddle right there on the floor.

Knowing that I might not see him for weeks on end, my hands started to wander a little more, to feel and catalogue and turn every touch into memories that would keep me going.

My skirt was pushed up, panties pulled down, and his fingers replaced the fabric, cupping and sliding and making me crazy.

We moved against each other, taking our time, and it all felt so good, but not as good as it felt when he was inside of me.

"I want you," I whispered, closing my legs around his hand and trying to pull him up by his arms.

"Hold on, baby." He bent down to take my nipple into his mouth and pulled it with his teeth until I arched into him.

I loved the ache of want; needed him everywhere, all at once and driving me to a place I had only ever found with him.

Impatient, I moved, too, turning my body until he was flat on his back and I was poised above him. I grasped him in my hand, slid until he was inside, stretching and filling and perfect. We rocked slowly at first, my head thrown back and his hands everywhere, moving me, exciting me.

And then I moved until his chest and mine were touching, until I could breathe his exhales and let them give me life, until our skin stuck together and he began to move his hips fast underneath mine.

The action spurred me on, made my body tense until it fell apart in to a million little pieces, and when I reformed I cried out to God and the universe, thanking whoever gave me this person to find and love with my whole heart all over again.

"I'm gonna miss you," I said, later, when we'd both caught our breath and words could be formed once more.

"I think I'll miss you more."

I laughed a little. "Nah, you'll have throngs of people wanting to be with you."

"But all I really need is you."

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you for your lovely words. Happy Heart Day!_

_Song – Disarm- Smashing Pumpkins_


	20. Red

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Red

-PoM-

Expecting an upbeat, quirky show from the _Fish_, I coerced Leah into going with me and we arrived at the venue with plenty of time to find a good place to watch the antics. When we entered, though, I got a sense the interview may be much more difficult than I'd originally thought.

From prior experience, the band had always put on a lively show—minimal set decoration and an attitude that was conducive to a good party. Tonight the stage was dripping with streaks of crimson: long scarves arranged over red lights; candelabra that had a better chance at a Shakespearean play than a rock concert; and lots and lots of blood-red colored, dripping candles.

We found a place near the back of the venue where the sound wouldn't be so distorted, and grabbed a table. From the size of the place I didn't expect it to be a big show, and with thirty minutes until show time, the crowd wasn't as big as I'd been expecting when Peter said the band had been gathering notice.

"A little overdramatic don't you think?" Leah said.

"Um, slightly. What the hell happened? Last time I saw them it was all a mash of reggae, ska, rock . . . and fun."

"Dunno," she said. "There's a rumor going around that the new lead wants to change the name of the band to _Vertical Ascent_. He thought the name 'Fish' was beneath them."

I looked at her. "How do you know this stuff when I don't?"

Leah laughed. "Seriously, I just hear things. Happens when you're knockin' around on the bottom of the totem pole."

She said it in jest, but her words still made me do a double take. "Don't sell yourself short. You're too good for that."

She nodded. "Yeah. But, anyway, the band's dynamic has changed, and not for the better. They've got that song _Blood Red_ that's pretty decent, but I honestly don't see what the buzz surrounding them is. Guess it's just a result of labels snatching up any grunge band and hoping to get half as decent a response as the major names. Hell, I play bass better than Alec does."

"You _do_ play a better bass. Why aren't you hooked up with anyone yet?"

"Eh, the last band? The girls were so flippin' bitchy."

"But . . . we're girls."

"These ones were vicious, man. I don't know, think I just like hangin' with guys better. Once they're over the 'I wanna screw you' stage, they make pretty good friends."

"True," I said, laughing.

While she went to get her hands on some beers, I took in the ambiance, scribbled a few notes in my pad—her words about the band had inspired a couple of questions for later. My article was still in that nebulous stage and I hated to decide on it before I'd even gotten to watch the show, so I penciled in some more positive questions to ask, too.

When the band came on stage—and, oh, god, was the lead really wearing a ruffled shirt?—they opened with a haunting melody overlaid with an operatic backtrack. It was actually pretty cool, costume-y effect aside, and I sat up straighter to watch.

"This is the song I was talking about," Leah said, and took a pull of her beer. "They shouldn't have opened with it, though."

And, once that was past, I saw what she meant. The new material lacked the inherent fun of shows past, sounding more like poorly disguised copies of other bands' material. Their personality as a band had changed somewhat—gone was the occasional reggae/ska, rock influence, replaced by a dark melodramatic theme, more like rock opera.

I even thought I heard a riff from one of Edward's songs.

Still, as much as I would have liked to slam them, I chose to look for the positives in their performance to round out my article.

James was a good front man; I had to give him that. His intensity lent itself to the dramatic theme well and he could certainly work the stage. The band seemed to handle the changes well, not that I could say they were as engaging as in shows I'd seen before.

All in all, I thought the sound odd for the current musical climate of Seattle.

Now that I saw him in person, I remembered James from the night Tanya had confronted Edward and me. That night he'd been a new face singing the standard, vintage set list, and it made me wonder how much sway he had over the band to tackle such an about face.

"This is . . . different," I said during a long guitar solo.

"See? They're a totally different band now."

"I'm not sure I prefer the change. It's very Meatloaf-esque, ya know?"

She cracked up, and unfortunately at a time when she'd been taking a drink of her beer. I grabbed my notes and tried to wipe them off.

"Gee, thanks for that."

"Sorry, sorry. But that was unexpected. Sort of true, though."

When the show was over I nudged Leah. "Let's head back so I can get this over with."

Hoping that the interview would turn up more things for me to hit on in my review than the actual show, I stood from the table with a headache forming and a desire to get home to my bed. Pulling our passes out, we looped the lanyards over our necks and took off for the area backstage where the band was supposed to meet me in the green room. We were met with a wall of bodies cluttering a tiny hallway.

Seemed like they were letting everyone come backstage, now. . .

Leah tugged on my sleeve. "I gotta go to the ladies room. Be right back?"

"Sure. I doubt I could get in there right now anyway."

After a few minutes with no return of Leah, I was getting impatient. Figuring she'd find me when she was done, I shoved my way through the crowd until I reached the door of the green room—aptly named because it was painted a jade color.

A few of the band members lounged on a couch, and I looked around trying to find James.

I tapped the guy nearest me. "Have you seen James?"

"Yeah, he's next door."

Starting to get pissed, I pushed back out of the room and ventured further down the hall. If the band was famous it would be one thing, but the area seemed more like a circus than anything and so much different from the usual vibe at one of Edward's shows.

In a room that was more of an office than a lounge, I found James and two other people. I stopped at the door, cleared my throat.

"James?"

He looked up from the chick sitting in his lap, goods on display for all to see. "What?"

Okay . . . "I'm Bella Swan, from _The Rocket_?"

"Oh, yeah, come in."

More people started moving in and out of the tiny space and I just became more irritated. There was no way to get an interview done in this setting. "I only have a few questions for you . . ."

The girl, pretty with lots of fiery red hair, leaned down and whispered something to him, and then stuck her tongue in his ear.

"Seriously?" I muttered, rooting around in my bag for a tape recorder.

As much as I wanted to be professional about this, it wasn't easy to do when he continued to ignore me and started to make out with his . . . friend. Shocked, I waited a minute, and then another, and then just gave up. Not like he'd notice I was gone, anyway.

With a feeling inside like I was failing at my job, my first _big_ assignment, I turned for the door. I hoped Peter would understand, or that I'd be able to set up a time to talk to the guy maybe over the phone or someplace more conducive to a sit-down setting. But then again, I didn't care—the guy was a prick.

And, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I felt a hand on my ass.

"Hey!" I said as I turned around.

James was standing behind me both hands raised, a placating smile on his face. "Sorry, just wanted your attention."

"That's not the way to go about it. I think I'm going to have the paper rearrange the interview for another time."

And I left, certain Peter was going to fire me.

Leah was struggling through the hallway, and I met her halfway and grabbed her arm to get her to follow after me. "Where the hell were you?"

"Whoa, easy. I got back and you weren't in the green room so I just waited here. Did you get what you needed?"

"No, it was a disaster. I—let's just go."

-PoM-

The next day at work I was sulking at my desk, absolutely humiliated I hadn't taken control of the situation. I knew better than that, had gone in to the night prepared for a little difficulty, and fled in annoyance when everything had gone out the window.

Peter wasn't going to be in until noon today, so that just gave me more time to pout.

"Rough night?"

I glanced up from the notes I'd begun to arrange to find Marcus leaning against the wall of my cubicle. Since the day Peter had explained his situation, I'd been trying to take a less vitriol-laced approach to the guy, which had been working surprisingly well. He still dropped extra work on my desk, but at least he didn't browbeat me at _every _turn now.

It made me wonder if Peter had talked with him as well.

"Eh, kind of."

"There's a delivery for you up front," he said, thumbing over his shoulder.

"A delivery?"

Before I could rise from my desk, Jessica, the receptionist, was there holding a vase of exotic, extremely fragrant, red and pink flowers.

"These are beautiful. I wish I had a guy who sent me flowers." The phone was ringing up front, and she lingered for only a second before scurrying to get it.

Marcus just wrinkled his nose and turned to leave.

My cheeks heated, and I looked down to hide the sappy smile. He'd only been gone a week, and that Edward had sent me flowers for no reason pleased me. I dug around for the card, anxious to see his words.

_Many apologies for last night._

_How about we start over with a cup of coffee?_

_~James_

Ugh. I tossed the card on the desk and stared at the flowers for a few moments. Standing, I grabbed the vase and headed toward the front.

"Jess, you know what? These would be so much prettier up here where the sun is."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why, thank you!" She stuffed her face in the middle to breathe in the scent of the tacky red plumage.

"You're more than welcome."

Just then Peter whizzed by, his briefcase in hand, heading straight toward his office.

"Peter, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure. Let's go."

I followed him in and closed the door partially behind me. He looked up when I took a seat, noticed the door, and frowned.

"Wow. It must be serious. You're not leaving, are you?"

"No! I love it here. I just, well, I think—no, I'm certain that I really messed up last night."

"What do you mean?"

"The whole scene after the show was just one big—"

"Clusterfuck? At my nod, he continued, "Yeah, I've heard that about them. I'm sorry that the rumors turned out to be true. I was sort of hoping that you'd be able to catch an interesting show." He shook his head, seeming contrite. Your knowledge of the scene is one I was hoping would be able to break through with them."

"I tried, I really did, but it was like I was invisible."

He sat back in his chair. "At the very least it was a good learning experience for you, Bella. Sometimes these guys are, to put it bluntly, assholes. They've had so much smoke blown up their rear ends that they think they're above it all, and us critics are there to give them face time."

"I suppose," I said, thinking about the guys in Edward's band. Jasper was a jerk, but he was always welcoming to journalists, at least—well, save for me. "I wish I'd done things differently, though."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I've had some massive failures in my time, too. We all have. What did you think of the show? I was looking forward to your opinion on it because you're very good about being creatively honest."

"It was . . . an experience. I took a bunch of notes on that part of it, but first impression is that they're a niche band, and I don't know how people will respond to that." I took a deep breath because it didn't seem like it was getting the fact that I'd not gotten the interview. "I bailed pretty fast after the show, though. I mean, before the interview."

His brow furrowed. "Any particular reason?"

There were a litany of excuses I could use to save face, but I was not going to make it sound like I was some damsel in distress and it was something I couldn't control. "The environment, let's just say, was not conducive to a professional interview."

"This is rock and roll, kid. Ninety percent of the time you're not going to get professional. You're going to get a band amped up on a completed show and, with good luck, an audience who loves them. I can tell you horror stories about bands who've been met with crowds who thought they were shit."

My hands twisted together—I just knew I was going to be fired.

He sighed. "Was there something that happened that made you uncomfortable?"

Surprised he'd gotten to the root of it so quickly, I looked up. He watched my face, nodded.

"That happens sometimes, too. Lots of partying backstage."

"I know you're upset, and I understand why. I should have been more assertive, but I just wasn't. For what it's worth, James offered a do-over this morning. I can still get the interview but it won't be following a show."

"Well, if you can get it that's fine. Maybe it was too much to give to you initially."

I rushed to assure him, though I wasn't even sure myself. "No! I mean, I can do it. I promise you. I'll get what you asked for."

"Okay, then. Get me the interview, get it written down, and come see me. We'll have you shadow someone for your next interview so you can get a feel for what's expected, and they can give you pointers on what to do if things are out of hand."

Feeling like I'd let him down, no matter how nice he was being about it, I thanked him for the second chance and headed to my desk. The card I'd tossed aside was there, and I picked it up and dialed the number scrawled at the bottom.

I swallowed crow and then said, "Hi, James? Did I wake you? This is Bella. I thought I'd take you up on your offer and meet for coffee."

-PoM-

When I got home from work there was a message on my machine from Edward.

"_Hey, you. Just finished up with the television interviews and waiting to head down to the hotel. Gimme a call about nine your time. I should be here. Miss you."_

His voice made me smile and I wished I could be there right now to share in the excitement of a national press tour. I felt like I was missing out so many big moments.

For the rest of the evening I spent my time getting things in order that been neglected in my time away from the apartment. With Rose gone so often, too, the place was in chaos, so I did it all: laundry, picking up and dusting, dishes that had been left in a pile to dry, a fridge that housed more expired items than fresh stuff. After all of that, I was seriously considering giving the place up. Who knew we had so much space to clean.

Around nine-o'clock, I called the hotel front desk in New York City, prepared to play my part in the code Edward and I had developed in order to make sure my calls got past the front desk.

The operator answered.

"I'd like to be connected to George Jetson's room, please," I said, trying to hold back the giggles that name sent me in to.

"One moment," she said, bland as all, and I figured it was a normal call for her.

It rang though four times before the receiver was picked up.

"Hello?"

At the squeaky, female voice I pulled the phone away from my ear and wondered what the hell was going on. I put it back just in time to hear someone say "_Gimme that,"_ before Ben's voice said,"Hello?"

"Ben?" The background was noisy, lots of laughter and loud music, and more than one feminine shriek.

"Oh, hey, Bella. Just a sec. Hey Ed!" he shouted, and I winced at the volume of it right in my ear.

There was some scratching a bit of mumbling, and then Edward's voice saying, "You there?"

"Um . . . Yeah."

"Ben, hang up!" More giggles, a click, and then a door slamming.

"Fuck, sorry about that. I don't know how everyone ended up over here."

"Sounds like you guys are having a good time."

"Yeah, it was a good show. The PR part sucked. Lots of sitting around and getting asked the same stupid questions by different journalists. I started making shit up at the end."

I was a little surprised by this; Edward had always been honest in his answers. But, then again, I supposed having to constantly repeat myself would annoy me, too. I made a mental note that I'd try in my own work to keep things interesting.

Someone must have opened the door again, because it got loud on his end. Edward's curses to _"Shut the fucking door" _filled the line, and for whatever reason, it made me feel like crap.

All I wanted to do was talk to my boyfriend after a particularly shitty day and it seemed like he wasn't available.

"Why don't you just call me back tomorrow, okay?" I said.

"Shit, babe, you're right. I won't be able to get these assholes out of here right now. I'll call when we get to D.C."

"Okay, that's fine."

"I love you and I miss you so fucking much."

"Love you to—" I cut off my words at the sound of the dial tone.

The phone sat in my hand until it began bleating the sound that told you there was no one there, and I placed the receiver back down.

It was normal for them to ham it up after a show, I knew that, and it wasn't unheard of for Jasper and Ben to include girls in that party, too. It happened, and I knew he normally wouldn't end one of our calls that way, but knowing it was one thing; accepting it was another, and it didn't set well in my bones.

-PoM-

* * *

_Some amazing comments, thank you! xo_

_Fell on Black Days – Soundgarden_


	21. Graceful

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Graceful

**Plot Generator – Phrase Catch:** Playing for keeps

-PoM-

"_You know I wish you were here."_

_I sighed. "I do. But you know I can't right now."_

The conversation I'd had with Edward after their D.C. show had been floating in my mind for a few days. Much better than the disastrous attempt of a phone call we'd had when he was in NYC, we'd been able to spend a quiet hour talking and catching up, and he'd apologized for hanging up so rudely that night—he'd assured me it wasn't intentional, and I believed him.

Especially when he told me that Ben—drunk as a skunk and showing off for the girls he and Jasper had brought back with them—had barged in to the room sans pants and attempting a windmill.

Rose actually backed that story up.

"_Stupidest thing I've ever seen, chick. It's like they try to outdo each other with who can be more asinine." _

Now, I was counting down the days until they would all be home. Eighteen days was all I had to get through—we were in the home stretch and I did my best to fill the time with work, even putting in extra hours when Peter would allow it. Unfortunately, the meeting I'd had set up for today was off to a late start.

James was a hard man to pin down for a chat, and the whole ordeal had soured my opinion of him further than the night of the show. First he couldn't speak to me right away because he and his band were "brainstorming" and couldn't be disturbed. Then a week went by where he insisted he was resting his vocal chords.

Peter became increasingly aggravated, but not at me this time. Finally, when he threatened to yank the write-up completely, James had agreed to an afternoon sit-down (which, apparently, wouldn't cut in to his _very busy _schedule) with me at B&O Espresso—a coffeehouse near the office that was always heavily populated and therefore in accord to my compromise with Edward.

Strangely, his diva act made me appreciate Jasper for once. At least he understood the importance of good press, and how not to be a dick to those who could slam you and your attitude to thousands of readers.

I checked my watch, again, and saw that thirty minutes had passed since the interview was set to begin. Sighing, I stood up and started to gather my things. I'd just pushed my last notebook in to my bag when James showed up and sauntered toward me, smug smile painting his mouth.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to drop someone off before I came over here."

And yet he didn't think to leave earlier . . . oh, no. not that.

"We'll have to make do with the time I have left then," I said, wanting to get this over with and put the whole thing behind me. I sat back down, pulled out the notebook I'd written my questions in, a recorder, and a pen.

He glanced at the empty mug I'd left on the table. "Can I get you something else to drink?"

Wondering if he was just sucking up now, I hesitated. "Sure, a latte would be great."

I studied him as he stood at the counter: average height; sandy colored tied back; plaid shirt under a leather jacket and jeans tucked into combat boots.

Good looking guy and it seemed he at least knew how to turn on charm for . . . some ladies. The female barista behind the counter was clearly engaged in some heavy flirtation with him . . . the patrons in line behind him, though, were not amused.

"Join the club," I muttered under my breath.

"I think an apology is in order," he said as he returned with our coffees. "I'm really sorry about the other night. Things get kind of hectic after a show." The lines near his eyes crinkled as he smiled, making his face appear somewhat more attractive.

"No big. I understand how that whole scene can be," I lied, trying to be professional.

"That's right. I'd heard some buzz that you and Cullen were a thing. I gotta say, that surprised me."

"Oh, really?" I didn't like his smile all of a sudden. It seemed false, too calculating.

"Yeah. He was with Tanya before you—that girl, man . . . she's a tiger. I'd be reluctant to let a girl like that get away."

The words stung . . . as he must have known they would. Like there was something inferior about me when placed next to Tanya.

"But I can see your appeal," he said, continuing on as if he hadn't just sliced my belly open. "You've got that sweet, innocent thing going on. He's gone right now, isn't he? You must get lonely . . ."

Asshole.

"It's an adjustment period," I said after I'd gained the use of my voice.

"Yes, it certainly is."

I glanced down at my notebook, saw a question I'd already decided would make a good jumping off point for the start of the interview. Now, though, I hoped it would allow me to save face and also get a subtle dig back in. I gave him a false laugh. "Enough about my relationship, though; Edward's on the East coast currently doing some promotional stuff, and I'm here to tell my local readers about you. You've played some shows as far away as Portland, from what I understand. How much do you find playing away from your home base of the Seattle area a challenge?"

He didn't expect it, that I could tell, and he gave me an answer that might as well have been any sound bite ever played on MTV by countless others about the excitement of home being different, but not in a bad way, from that while on the road.

". . . It's awesome to see reaction from all over," he finished, and drained his cup.

And, if the reaction of the people at the show I'd attended was anything to go by, Vertical Fish were on the fast track to being a one-hit wonder.

"You began your career in Sacramento, played with SATO for close to a year, and then hooked up with the members of Vertical Fish. What about the Seattle area do you find inspires your music?"

"Wow. You do your homework."

"It's my job to be informed—for instance, I know you currently play a 1989 Fender Strat Plus. This is all easy stuff to find out." Truthfully, I had gotten most of it from Leah.

"That's a great guitar. The sounds it makes . . . beautiful, right?"

"Indeed. Now, about Seattle."

"Well . . . I like Seattle. It's grittier than my hometown, more real. The darkness, the weather and the feel of the citizens, feeds in to our sound, definitely."

At this second bit of bullshit, I nodded, and then switched directions. "That leads nicely into my next question. How was the decision made to change the personality and sound of the band? Was it more to suit your own style or a group effort?"

"Fuck. You go straight for the heart, don't you?"

"No, it seems to me the obvious question. The Fish had a loyal following with what they were doing before, why the change?"

"I felt a need to create something new and different from what everyone else was doing."

"And how has that worked for you and the band?"

He sat up, a little defensive. "We're doing all right. A record deal is right around the corner; I've talked to some people."

"Any bites?"

For those words I scaled back the snark in my tone, relaxed my body language some. After the rapid fire pace of my earlier questions it felt a little like good-cop/bad-cop, and he seemed bewildered when I nodded and smiled along to his name-dropping.

Eventually he relaxed, too, chatting with me about the new sound and his expectations for the band. Every once in a while I'd throw in something out of left field—asking him about his favorite spot in Seattle, favorite musicians and early influences to keep it professional.

Besides, I thought I'd made my point in showing that I wasn't some silly girl who was here to kiss his feet and allow him to trample common decency in regards to personal things that weren't any of his business.

I got the impression, as I'd done the night of the concert and Leah and Edward's opinions, that the new direction was James-centric and it bummed me out for the other members of the Fish. They were good guys, but on the current path . . . it was only a matter of time before the band broke up.

After one more question about the theatrics of their live shows, I was satisfied that I had enough for the article. It hadn't been intended as a full length feature anyway. I looked at my watch, saw that it had only been twenty five minutes.

"I think that about does it. Thank you for your time, James."

"You're done already?"

"Yes, I have what I need." I started to gather my things when he put his hand on my arm.

"I never really got to apologize for the other night. I was outta line."

"Yes, you were. I received the flowers. Thank you, they made for a sufficient apology."

"Yes, but I'd love to make it up in some other way. We could go grab some dinner, get to know each other, maybe talk some more about music . . ."

He gave me a look that suggested he had more in mind, and I wondered if the guy was so self-assured that he thought dodging me for weeks only to then insult me would land him in my pants. And if that was the way he treated his hangers-on, I felt sorry for his groupies.

"Thank you for the offer, but I really need to get home and get this finished."

"What's the rush? You said yourself Edward is away, and you know how that goes. What's the harm in hanging out with me tonight?"

Again with the implied insults. Because, yes, I did know how that went—for him. I also knew that Edward, while not always perfect, wasn't an asshole.

"I'm on a deadline for this piece. Unfortunately it should have been published weeks ago but there've been some scheduling conflicts that pushed it back. If I don't get this turned in to my editor, the momentum will be lost. You understand, I'm sure. So, you have a great rest of the afternoon, and thank you _so_ very much for speaking with me."

And, I left.

-PoM-

Later that evening, I was curled up on the couch with a pint of ice cream and catching up on the latest news. Rose had insisted we get cable before she left because she wanted to stay current with everything she could. I flipped through the channels and tuned it to MTV in hopes that I could catch a glimpse of any mention of the band.

While the opening to _The Week In Rock_ played in the background, I casually thumbed through my notes from the interview with James. Peter had already been briefed on it, knew that I'd had some difficulty but that, even after some insults that I wasn't sure were aimed at me or Edward, that I'd gotten what I needed and hadn't even stuck my spoon up the douchebag's nose for being so rude.

Now I just had to make sure that my personal feelings toward the guy didn't come through in my words—any obvious, heavy criticism after that sideshow would probably be called into question, and I did not want that. I also thought it'd be a good challenge to turn in something that would impress Peter while remaining constructively critical.

The familiar voice of Kurt Loder filled the room, and I nodded along to a cut of an upcoming Unplugged show I was looking forward to seeing.

"_And, with the upcoming release of their debut album . . ." _

The bumper music made me look up sharply.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Screaming as a still picture flashed onscreen, I tossed my ice cream on to the table in front of me and grabbed for the remote.

Arranged in a row of two, with Edward and Emmett—the two tallest—in back, all five of the guys sat in a darkened studio being interviewed. I knew it had to be pre-recorded because they'd already left NYC, but it was still so cool to watch. The reporter was a new face, but enthusiastic, and I loved the vibe he had with the guys.

Because of the mostly wide shot, Edward's face was on screen a lot, and I drank in his features, the small smiles and the casual way he spoke. His hair was too long, the scruff of his jaw unkempt, but it had been so long since I'd seen his face I didn't care. Somehow, though, he felt farther away than ever, and I missed him so much right then that it made my breath feel heavy in my lungs.

There was something about his demeanor that made me think he was irritated, or maybe fatigued, about halfway through, and I wondered if it had been the day he said he'd begun giving bullshit answers just to break up the tedium.

Jasper did most of the talking, the rest of the guys chiming in only occasionally. When Edward was asked a direct question his voice was a little testy. He'd always been so professional with fans and media types and I knew then that something was wrong.

After the segment, I hurried to look through the list of stops on their tour that Rose had left for me. I found the destination I was looking for and picked up the phone, using the calling card she'd left for me to call the hotel they were at in Detroit.

"City morgue; you kill 'em, we chill 'em."

"Nice, Rose. Jeez, I miss you guys so much, lame jokes and all."

"Hey, Bella! Sorry, someone figured out Emmett's false name and we've been getting the stupidest calls since we got in."

"Oh, that's just fantastic. Any good ones?"

"Couple of heavy breathers. We started speaking nonsense languages and they eventually hung up. Anyway, what's up?"

"Well, I just saw the MTV interview . . . "

"Yeah. I was in the room for that one. Not bad, but your boyfriend is a complete crab ass. Everything going all right between you two? I've heard of brooding, but this is ridiculous."

"No, we're good. I think it's just that we're just a long way away from each other."

"Well, I wish your ass was here."

"That's why I called. I need your help."

-PoM-

When Peter had chastised me for bailing on my interview with James, he'd still been very polite about it. When I didn't know something, or made some smaller mistake, he always explained patiently what I'd done wrong. Every day I was grateful that he was my boss because I couldn't have asked for a better one. Right now, I thought he should be considered for Sainthood.

Because, on last minute notice, he allowed me to take off for a week with a promise that my article would be sent in via fax in two days time—and that I would promise to not only do the edits on it as soon as he sent them back, but that I would get an 'inside scoop' on the guys' shows on the opposite coast to let the local fans know how it was going.

I agreed, thanked him profusely, and made myself a promise to babysit his kid if he ever complained about needing a night out with his wife.

With a fresh notebook, my things from my interview with James, and a walkman fresh with new batteries and my favorite CDs, I boarded the long flight to Cincinnati and got a jumpstart on my work.

Rose had left the most recent info she had, but I was on my own when it came to logistics—and I'd be eating soup for the next month to swing the trip, but that was inconsequential. I'd made up my mind after seeing the interview that I was going to do what was best for me and Edward because I was playing for keeps.

Lugging a huge duffel bag and my backpack crammed with work stuff with me, I took a cab to the theater they were playing and picked up a VIP pass Rose had thankfully left for me at the ticket window. My bags got some odd looks, but after the bouncer rifled through it and began stammering when he got the bottom layer that held my underthings, he let me go inside.

It was packed inside, already dark and the band was jamming onstage to one of my favorite songs, a fist pumping anthem that always got crowds going. I navigated my way through, got backstage and was pointed to the guys' dressing room by a helpful member of one of the opening bands.

Free of my stuff, I headed toward the spot I knew Rose liked to watch shows from, a vantage point where she could keep an eye on everything on and off stage.

I tapped her on the shoulder.

"You're here!" She threw her arms around me and rocked me back and forth, squeezing the life out of me. "Emmett already knows, but he's been ordered to keep it a secret. Ed's gonna be so fucking amped."

"They sound great," I said in return. "This crowd is nuts."

"Aren't they? Every show has gotten a little bigger, a little more wild. The reception has been amazing."

And there she went being honest again. I focused my attention on stage, watched Edward as he played alongside Tyler. Tyler looked better, like he'd picked up some of his weight again and that, alongside being in the same zip code as Edward once more, made my heart feel lighter than it had in weeks.

Emmett, looking to our side of the wings, caught sight of me and his face broke into a huge grin.

"C'mon" Rose shouted. "You can see him better from over here."

She gracefully maneuvered me to stage left where I could get a clear view of Edward, and my body began to move along with his, both of us nodding our heads as he sang. His hair covered his eyes, obscuring his face, as he bent over his guitar and made it wail.

Jasper caught sight of me then and slowly worked his way to Edward. Nudging him, he nodded his head in my direction before launching into his solo.

Edward turned to look and a slow, easy smile appeared on his face. Striding directly to me with his guitar in hand, he stepped slightly out of sight of the audience and slid a hand into my hair, his lips meeting mine in a fierce, quick kiss.

Not missing a beat, he let go, a little more energy in his step when he went back out there and killed the rest of the show.

-PoM-

* * *

_This is a journey and I am so glad you are here for the ride._

_No Excuses – Alice In Chains_

_xo BT for kickin' ideas with me._


	22. Artificial

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Artificial

-PoM-

"I still can't believe you just showed up last night. Here I was pissed off because you didn't answer when I called, and you were on your way to me."

Late morning light made his features clearer than the night before, beautiful even in their raggedness. His eyes had bags under them; his cheeks were too thin and made his facial features sharper. I traced my hand over his cheekbone. He gathered my body into his, stroked a hand up and down my bare back.

I shifted lazily, drawing my leg over his hip and snuggling into his warmth. "You look different. When's the last time you had a good meal?"

"No idea. We grab stuff from gas stations when we're hungry, grab a pizza sometimes after the shows. Touring isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Poor thing," I said, kissing the knot of his shoulder bone. "Soon as you get home I'm going to make you the biggest dinner."

"Soon as I get home I'm taking you to my bed for a week," he said. "I miss the way your skin tastes. Sometimes it's all I can think about."

The hand that had been drawing nonsensical patterns on my back fell down below the sheet, headed up the backs of my thighs. I reciprocated by lightly grazing my fingers over the muscles of his stomach and down.

"You can taste it now."

He flipped me over and earned a squeal for it. I laughed when the hair of his jaw scratched my stomach and then gasped when it rubbed the skin over my panties.

"Oh, I will," he said.

I had my hands clenched tightly in his hair when a pounding on the door made him jerk his head up and stop the delicious things he was doing.

"Go away," he yelled. "We're busy."

"Who the hell is that?" I sat up, too, gathered the sheet around my body.

He looked at the clock next to the bed and cursed. "Goddamn Rose, probably. She's a fucking pest.""

The pounding stopped and I began to move the sheet away so we could get back to what we were doing, but then there was a click and the hotel door shot open.

"Jeez, Rose!" I shouted, diving to cover Edward's nakedness.

"You guys have twenty minutes to get downstairs."

Edward grumbled under his breath behind me. I knew I should tell him that the things he was saying were rude and to be nicer, but I kind of agreed with him right then.

"Can't we just meet you there?" he said.

"No. Get your asses up and showered. I'm not sitting in the van with you if you smell like sex. Oh, and clothes would be nice, too. Nice ass, Edward. Later."

I stared at the door as it closed behind her, and then turned to look at him. "I don't know whether to laugh or hit her for checking out your butt. Does she always do this? And why on earth does she have a key to your room?"

"Yes. I swear that girl is in the wrong career—she'd have made a decent drill sergeant. Been like that since Ty started fucking up. She harasses the hotel people until she gets a key to every room."

"He's doing better, then?"

Edward stood up and started tossing his things toward his duffel bag. I watched him move, appreciating the sans-clothes sight. "Yeah, he's been clean since we left New York."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, I'm glad."

"I am too, baby. We were all really stressed worrying about him and if he was going to be all right. It was a rough few months there."

I shifted until I was sitting with my legs touching the floor and sent a silent whisper of thanks to whoever was listening. I'd known things had been bad from what Rose had told me, but Edward had played it off when I asked. Knowing that that stress had been heaped at his and the other guys' feet made his testiness lately take on a different meaning.

"Yeah. Well, guess we better get and take showers, then."

"Share with me?"

He pulled me up, fitting my body to his, and I knew he didn't want to take a shower together to just save time.

"Mmm. We're going to be late."

"Don't care."

-PoM-

The two vans the record label had provided were already running when we crossed the parking lot forty-five minutes later, wet heads and all. I tried to ignore the catcalls and whistles that greeted us and dove for an empty seat toward the back.

Because they were a new band they hadn't yet earned the luxury of a bus, which sucked because I'd always wanted to see what the inside of one of those behemoths looked like, but the van was at least one of those huge ones that seated about ten people comfortably. Edward had already explained the rules to me.

No foods that had onion or garlic in them.

Shoes had to remain on at all times or risk being tossed out the window: AKA the Emmett rule number one because apparently his feet were rank.

Driver got radio control, even if they wanted to listen to something lame like ABBA.

No farting: AKA Emmett rule number two

After stowing our bags in the second van, where the gear and everything else resided, Edward crawled in beside me and waved his hand over the papers I was looking through.

"Whatcha doing?" he whispered when I swatted his hands away.

"Peter faxed my article edits to the hotel this morning. They're what I went to find while you were finishing up in the room."

"You have to work while you're here?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"You'll get some time, then. The next show is a six hour drive."

Is it like this all the time?" I whispered, loving the quiet conversation we were having. Even with a van full of people, it felt intimate.

Everyone else was either passed out or had headphones on, and I wondered how late they'd stayed up. Rose was already conked out, head resting on a pillow against the window of the passenger seat and Emmett was humming off-key to some awful country station.

"Usually. Sometimes after a really great show we're a little crazy, but most of the time we try and get whatever rest we can."

I set my papers down and propped my knee on the seat between us. "Do you like it?"

He stared out of the window and I waited.

"Basically, yeah. There are times when I just want my own bed and to not have to be on all the time, but mostly it's pretty cool. I'm tired though, and I don't like being away from you so much. Price you pay, huh?"

I nodded. "Guess so. It's gotta be cool seeing new fans, right?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that's pretty awesome. We'll figure it out as we go. Maybe next time you can come out with us more."

"Maybe," I said. I'd been thinking about that, too. The distance was hard and it was something that I'd need to decide on.

Tyler took off his headphones, turned in his seat. "Hey, Bella. Didn't get to talk to you last night much. Pretty cool of you to drop in on us."

Like everyone else, Tyler looked a little ragged but I could see the positive differences in his appearance, too. His skin wasn't so sallow, the eyes were clear and present. And his smile was like it used to be, all wide and infectious and welcoming.

I leaned forward and tugged on one of his dreads. "Well, what can I say? I missed my favorite guys. It was impulsive as hell, but it was worth every penny."

Edward rubbed his hand over the small of my back as I settled back in my seat and took a slug from the large coffee he was holding. "Next time I'm paying. You need to knock this shit off. Let me take care of you for once."

Jasper, who I thought was asleep, spoke without opening his eyes "As annoying as it is to hear you two lovebirds yammer on, I'm fucking happy as hell that you did show up, Bella. I was ready to start giving him some Midol."

Shocked that he'd acknowledged me, and doubly so because it wasn't his usual brusque response to me, I shook my head and laughed. "I have some in my bag . . ."

Edward pinched my side while everyone else started to laugh, and it felt so good to be here. These people were my family, and I loved them all—except Jasper. Him I tolerated because, as much of a prick that he could be, he was Edward's friend and a driving force behind the band.

Maybe someday we'd be friendly.

At the next gas stop we switched up the seating arrangement. Emmett, Ben and Tyler called for a nap; Rose was just starting to wake up and said she'd rather sit next to me. Jasper took over driving duties and Edward took over shotgun while Rose and I parked ourselves on the bench seat behind the front.

Apparently Jasper's choice for radio control was none at all—he hummed a few bars of something I didn't recognize and Edward joined in, singing along quietly.

I listened to the words as he sang—they resonated deep inside my chest because they felt like a story I already knew. It was happiness and satisfaction in the middle of something dark and unforgiving, and I turned my head to stare out of the window and hide the tears gathering in my eyes.

When they began to talk about arrangements and lyrics that needed a change, I turned to Rose who was scribbling stuff in a notebook. "Whatcha working on?"

"Just the plans for the launch party. The record company wanted it to be in L.A. but that's so bogus. We're from Seattle and that's where it should be. They gave in after I promised it'd be big and splashy and fun."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Sure." She dug through a box I'd just noticed on the floor, handed me a stack of papers. "Just look over the final invites and match it with this one. I don't want to forget anyone."

A few minutes passed and then a name caught my attention. "Ugh. You invited James? Why? That dude's such a freaking creep."

"Well, Em used to play sometimes with his band so I put them on the list. Can't leave one out, sadly. Oh, hey! How did that interview go? You never told me if you got it done or not."

Because Edward had cocked his head like he was listening, I shot her a look that told her to drop it. "I'm finishing it up now. The show was pretty much ridiculous but I had fun because Leah went with me. The interview was basically him giving me all of these canned responses. Not much to work with so cross your fingers for me that it doesn't put the readers to sleep."

"Bummer. You'll do a good job though, chick. You always do."

We worked for a few more minutes in silence. "Speaking of work . . . Seems like you've been doing an amazing job. The buzz back home is so cool and the record hasn't even been released yet. ."

"I do all right," she said smugly. "If these dickheads would stop making a fuss about doing a video, however . . ."

Edward groaned. "We'll get to it, Rose. We'd like to have a moment to breathe, first."

"Blah blah blah. I hear you talking but the words sound like excuses. You could do it in the middle of a show and then shoot something at home and be done with it."

"We're working on the fans first," Jasper said, staring at her for a second in the rearview mirror. "We'll do it when we get home. You know we want to be shot there."

She turned to me. "Honestly, it'll probably be like filming kindergartners at play time. Especially with Emmett and Ben. Can you just imagine?"

I laughed. "The show thing sounds like a cool concept, actually. Do it at home and the crowd will be amazing."

"This is what I'm saying," Jasper said. "Bella gets it."

I leaned over and whispered in Rose's ear, "Are we in the Twilight Zone?"

When we stopped for lunch at a fast food place, Rose and I took our time going inside by begging off with the excuse of smoking a cigarette. "Is it really going okay? I came because I got a funky vibe from that interview."

"It's getting better, promise. First Tyler was a wreck, and then Edward started acting like we took his favorite toy away from him. Plus, I think the label stuff is getting to them a little. It's different, ya know?"

"Yeah, Edward's big on artistic integrity. Not going to like his songs to be conceptualized by someone else."

"That's for sure." She stubbed her cigarette out." I'm so glad you came out. He really misses you. I miss you."

I tried to blow it off because I felt clingy for missing him every single day. "Eh, he doesn't need me 24/7. He probably was just horny."

"Nah, you ground him. I can see it almost immediately when you're nearby. Having you close allows him to let go. Like it's safe for him to jump off."

I kind of had the same feeling. The two of us together . . . I felt like we could conquer anything.

"He doesn't want to admit how much he needs you."

"Are you talking about me?"

I jumped and then turned around. Edward stood at the door, a smile on his face. "Yup. Rose was just telling me that you've been incredibly grumpy."

"I have not."

"Are you kidding me? I was about ready to punch you in the balls in New Haven. I had one nerve left and you were on it."

He chuckled. "It wasn't that bad."

"Hmfph. Says you."

-PoM-

The week spent on the road with the band was a lot of fun. I was able to see two more shows and spend a lot of time with Edward before I had to leave, and a bonus was that it ate up a good portion of the time left until I could see him again.

The last days of their tour flew by, my article was finished on time and ready to go to press, and my off time was spent helping Rose with last minute details that she couldn't get done from the road. It was set for two days after they returned and being held at RKCNDY this time, a location central for everyone involved.

Edward chose to fly separate from the band again to get home, and picking him up from the airport the second time was much, much easier. For one thing his flight arrived in the morning and he'd slept some on the plane, and for another we hadn't been apart as long.

Not that it made any difference when we got back to his place. The night he'd returned, while he was dozing in bed after a round of mattress testing—and it hurt for me to walk—I headed out to the store and picked up the fixings for a recipe of my Grandma's, a chicken and rice dish that made enough food to feed a hungry rockstar leftovers for three days.

But I didn't care. He was home and we had some time before they had to go back out for any major touring. The record was coming out and I couldn't wait to be able to go buy a copy in the stores to add to the one on my CD shelf that I'd already pilfered. Everything felt so right.

-PoM-

The night of the party I took extra care in getting ready. My hair was left in loose curls down my back, makeup done with a little help from the drugstore counters, and my royal blue dress was sexy, but not skanky. I twirled in front of the bedroom mirror, checking out different angles and making sure I didn't have weird, lumpy places.

"Hello, gorgeous. What did I do to deserve this?"

I looked up, caught his gaze wandering over my frame, and turned back and forth to show off a little more. "I take it you like?"

"Like? We're not gonna make it to the party."

"Yes, we are. You need to behave right now because I have to get there early to help Rose. The bigwigs are invading."

"Whatever. But keep in mind that you're all mine later."

"Done."

Two hours later we were in the thick of things. The party itself seemed to going off without a hitch; Edward was plucked and grabbed at every opportunity by a executive or a media person or people just wanting to congratulate him on a job well done; the music piping over the speakers was getting a lot of positive compliments from the snatched of conversation I overheard.

I was waiting for Edward to bring me a drink when I thought I saw Lauren, but a group of guys in suits walked past and obscured my line of sight. When they'd passed by the girl was gone, and I shrugged it off. Lots of girls here sort of looked like her, to be honest: a little messy in their vintage dresses and motorcycle jackets.

A hand moved over my side.

"Excellent. I'm thirsty. What took you so lo—oh. James, hello." I stepped away from the touch and looked over my shoulder for Edward.

"Bella. I saw your article in this week's Rocket. You didn't seem impressed with the show."

I fought to keep the grimace off of my face. "I must admit that I'm not a fan of the new style your band has gone in, but both myself and my editor thought the review to be a fair one."

"Well, I thought it was horseshit. Your little review made me look like a fool."

"No, it didn't. The article was written from my notes and a recorded transcript of our interview. The review of the show was my opinion, and it was neither rude nor based on my personal feelings. I'm sorry you didn't like it."

"James."

He backed off and, as I stepped back in to Edward's side, I noticed how he'd been towering over me.

"Hey, Ed. Looks like things are taking off for you. New album, big tour, hot girl. . ."

Edward shifted beside me, muscles of the arm wrapped around me tensing. I placed my hand on his thigh to hold him from going off.

"Things couldn't be better," he said in a clipped tone. "And you? Got that deal yet?"

He was rubbing it in his face, now. I anticipated something bad, but the redhead from the night of the concert strolled up then dressed in a barely there dress and holding a drink.

She looked between us, clearly noticed the standoff happening, and rolled her eyes. "James, they've got an open bar. Let's go get wasted, and then you need to meet this guy. He's making a documentary on the music coming out of Seattle."

He departed with a look at Edward and me that showed how much he disliked the both of us, and I took a deep breath.

"Well, that was fun."

"What the hell was that about?" Edward said, pulling me in to a quiet corner.

"He didn't like my review of his show. Thought the interview made him look 'like a fool', which, if it did, is his own fault."

"Don't wanna say I told you so, but . . ."

"Yeah, yeah. You told me so. Whatever, it's done and he can complain all he wants, but if he'd made the time for a proper interview and not been such a self-involved jerk maybe the interview could have canceled out the show write-up."

"If he bothers you again, tell me and I'll knock his fucking lights out. I don't like that prick."

"Deal," I said. "Now, let's go find that guy making a documentary before he does. Wouldn't want the poor guy to have to talk about weird rock operas."

-PoM-

The party had gone on late into the night, and we left with a promise to Rose and Emmett to meet for lunch the next day. A bit of normalcy was sorely needed after weeks of stop and go and a night of the highest of dreams coming true. The sound of a phone woke me from a deep sleep that hadn't gone on long enough as far as I was concerned.

I glanced at the clock, saw that it was barely eight in the morning, and nudged Edward awake.

"Babe, get the phone," I muttered. "I can't reach it."

"Wha? What the fuck is that noise?"

The phone stopped ringing, and I stared at Edward. "I'm going back to sleep."

He draped himself around me and pulled me close, and the phone rang again. He groaned and then fumbled for the cordless behind him, dropping it once before he tucked it between his shoulder and his ear.

"Hello?" I watched his face as he was jarred awake.

"What? When!" He flew up in to a sitting position. "No, no fucking way. Are you sure?"

I turned to look at him, lost my breath as his face crumpled and he slumped over, elbows to his knees while he listened to whatever was being said on the phone. The absolute stillness of his body scared me into sitting up, too.

"Edward . . . ?"

His voice was destroyed as he sucked in a breath, said, "I'll be right over."

The blood in my veins went cold when he threw the phone and it shattered against the wall. The happiness of last night seemed an artificial dream that I wanted back right then.

_"Fuck!"_

"Edward, what is it? What happened?"

"Ty's dead."

-PoM-

* * *

_'Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live' - Robert Kennedy_

_Song: Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns – Mother Love Bone_


	23. Retrieve

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Retrieve

**Dialogue Flex**: "I'm glad you're feeling better."

-PoM-

There's this state of suspended reality when news is so crippling you can't begin to fathom it. As Edward sprang off of the bed and hurried around the room, I sat there in shock and clutching a sheet to my chest.

Tyler was dead?

There was just no way. I'd seen him the night before—he'd given me a hug when Edward and I walked into the party. He'd picked me up and twirled me around and told Edward he was a lucky guy to have a girl so pretty. I'd blushed because that was sweet and flattering, and I'd kissed him on his cheek for saying so. He'd been so happy, smiling and posing for pictures with everyone, stoked that some of the bigger names in the Seattle area music scene were there and they knew who he was.

Tyler. Dead. Tyler was dead.

My voice got caught in my throat as I started to ask Edward if he was sure, really sure, and I slumped down, words forgotten anyway.

"Where's my wallet?"

I looked up, used the sheet to dry my face. "What?"

"My wallet. I need my wallet. I have to go."

"Oh, here, let me help you find it."

Sheet forgotten forgotten, half on and half off the bed, I propelled upward and started overturning stacks of clothes strewn around the room. Vaguely I realized Edward was dressed; the button down shirt I'd thought he looked so nice in last night unbuttoned this morning, in a pair of jeans that had been on the floor since he'd worn them home from the tour.

I found the wallet under my shoes from last night and held it out to him.

"Give me a minute to . . ." I looked down. "Yeah, I need to get dressed." The first bit of clothes I grabbed was once of his concert tees, which I tugged on. "Do you want me to drive?"

Edward stopped rooting around in his wallet, looked at me blankly. He looked like he was in as much shock as I was, but I knew it was probably worse for him. He'd known Tyler for a long time. They hung out a lot. Wrote songs together.

My breath hitched as I thought about never hearing another of Ty's songs.

I wouldn't see his face again when I came home from work to find him and Edward camped on the couch, instruments in hand and pieces of paper spread around them like snowdrifts.

"No. I . . . I have to go now. I'll call you soon."

And then he was rushing from the room, leather jacket in hand. The door in the front room slammed closed, and I was left with silence.

Tyler was gone.

Edward had left.

I was here.

My butt landed back on the bed and I crumpled, sobs coming fast and hard as the awful reality of the situation finally began to sink in.

_The back door opened, sound amplified and spilled out, and a lanky guy, anxious looking and with hair too-long and halfway formed into dreads, stepped onto the porch."Hey," he said. _

_"Hi." _

_His features lit from the glow of a pipe as he inhaled. There was a peaceful quality about him in that action. His body settled, relaxed into the worn brick behind him. He passed the pipe my way and nodded when I declined, not at all put out. _

_"That's cool. I'm Tyler."_

_Wisps of vapor circled him as he raised his head to the sky and sent his smoke toward the heavens. _

He'd been so kind to me from the moment we met. Told me sweet things about Edward that I couldn't even get out of Edward himself. Talked obscure music with me that no one else cared about. Told me my cooking was excellent every time I forced him to eat with us even if it was only spaghetti noodles and Ragu sauce.

When he was himself there was always a smile on his face for everyone, a bit of praise for anyone who helped the band in any shape or form. Praise for the guys because they were his family.

I didn't know what to feel. So many emotions were present and they all were too much. Too daunting. Too real. Too heartbreaking. My body shook with the force of my cries, breath heavy in my lungs and heart rent in half. I shook so hard I thought I might puke.

Eventually I got out of bed and wandered aimlessly toward the living room, but it hurt to see the empty couch. I stumbled in to the kitchen, spotted the phone on the wall. I couldn't call anyone from the one in the bedroom now, not when Edward had destroyed it. I picked it up, dialed a number, and then had to disconnect when shaking fingers pushed the wrong buttons. I tried again.

"This is Rose."

Finally. "What happened? How did this happen? I can't . . . Oh my god, Rose."

She sniffled. "I don't know, Bella. Emmett left a few minutes ago to go to Jasper's and wait for information. They just . . . they all need to be together right now and I didn't want to intrude on that."

Her voice was raspy, like she'd been crying, too.

"Do you know anything yet? Anything at all? Edward wouldn't tell me anything beside that Ty was . . . Like, who found him, or how . . . how did he die?" The last word came out strangled.

"I don't know much more than that, really. I know he OD'd at his place and that Ben found him this morning."

OD'd. Overdosed. I didn't want to picture Tyler that way. Cold and stiff and not full of life. Maybe slumped over himself. A needle in his arm or . . . or . . .

I started to cry again. Over the phone, Rose's sobs were just as bad as mine, and I wished I was at home with her because I didn't want either of us to be alone right now.

"Was there anyone with him?"

"Not as far as I know."

"I thought I saw Lauren last night, but she wasn't there when I looked again. Oh my god, I should have said something, told you or Edward or somebody. He was doing so good. I mean, he was clean."

"Don't do that, Bella. Don't. Addicts are never more than one hit away from dying. The desire to get lost in their own world is never completely gone. And I'm wrecked about this, I really am. I loved that kid, but I'm not surprised. Tyler knew the dangers but getting high was more important. You cannot blame yourself. No one can."

"I can't even fathom this right now."

"My phone's been ringing off the hook already. Everyone wants to know if it's true. I can't even imagine how it is at Jasper's place right now."

"Oh, god," I said, worrying for the guys' sake. "I hope someone is there to take care of the phone calls and they don't have to do it."

"I know. It's just—it just sucks." Her breath caught in her throat. "Look, chick, I hate to cut you off but I need to get going. I talked to his mom and I'm going to go sit with her. Lord only knows if she has anyone to help her out right now."

I hadn't even thought about Tyler's mother—what a jerk I was. She was nice, came out to shows in the area when she had a night off her job at a gas station. She was one of those mothers sort of like mine: perpetually youthful, fun and loud and someone you could have a few beers with. She was always in the middle of a new boyfriend, and she had this laugh that bordered on obnoxious, but it was infectious, too.

"Is she . . . okay? I mean, of course she's not. Why would she be?"

"She's a wreck. When I talked to her she was in hysterics. I'm going to go sit with her, make sure she gets to talk to the police and gets her questions answered."

My fingers traced over the faded wallpaper. Rose was always so much in control, so level headed and calm. She got done want needed done, took care of everyone. I admired her for that, always had.

"Okay. If there's something that needs done, something I can help with, will you call me?"

"I will. Has Edward left?"

"Yeah. He's on his way."

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon."

When the line clicked, I hung up and then tried to figure out what it was I needed to do. There was no sense in going home because I'd be just as alone there as I was here, and I wanted to be here in case Edward came back and needed me. So I brewed a pot of coffee and then picked up our clothes from the party. I did the dishes and put everything in the kitchen where it was supposed to be. I headed for the bathroom and picked up the dirty towels and recapped the shampoo bottles.

And then I went into the bedroom and picked that up, too. And then I ruined the freshly made bed by flopping facedown onto it and I cried.

-PoM-

The lights outside bathed the bedroom in odd swatches when I heard the door to the apartment open. I sat up and cocked my head, and then heard him shuffling around.

He was standing in the living room when I got there, a tired look on his face. His whole being radiated numbness—shoulders slumped, eyes staring at the wall. It scared me to see him so despondent.

I moved from the hallway and waited while he dropped his jacket in the entry way and then sat down on the couch. He lit a cigarette, exhaled the smoke in a sudden, fast rush.

"He had a gram of fucking smack next to him. Like his body could even handle that much dope. The stupid bitch just left him there, didn't even call anyone for help. I'm amazed she left the drugs there and didn't take them to put into her own veins."

My insides churned at the reference to Lauren. I sat beside him, wanting to reach out and place my hand on his leg, or do anything to comfort him, but he held himself stiff like he couldn't deal with being touched.

"They know it was her?"

He scoffed. "Of course it was her. Jasper talked to one of his buddies earlier when word started to get around. Guy saw them leaving together last night."

He stubbed out his cigarette, lit another.

"And Ben found him?"

"Yeah. They were heading down to Portland today because Ty wanted to go see about a bass in one of the shops down there. Owner got hold of him while we were on the road, thought it was something Ty would appreciate. Ben got there, saw the door was wide open, found him in his room. He tried to revive him, called 911, but it was too fucking late."

"Jesus," I breathed. "I can't—" Not wanting to add to his pain, I cleared my throat. "Do you need anything? Are you hungry or thirsty or . . ."

"No." He tapped his lighter on the arm of the couch and leaned back, closing his eyes.

And meanwhile I felt like shit because I didn't know what to say to make any of this better. So I sat beside him and stayed quiet, lending comfort in the only way I knew how by just being there to let him talk.

His hand shifted to grab mine after a few minutes of silence. I threaded my fingers through his, stroked the back of his knuckles.

"I'm sorry, babe," I said, wishing I had the magic words to make his suffering go away.

"It's so surreal, ya know? When we were on the road this last time . . . he was almost his old self. Writing and making plans for the future. Having a blast. And we watched him, made sure he was straight and not hanging out with the wrong people. I didn't do a good enough job, I guess, didn't watch him closely enough."

My eyes watered again. "Ty was his own person, Edward. He always said that he owned his problems. You can't blame yourself."

"I should have done something sooner. Hauled his fucking ass to treatment."

I placed my hand on his shoulder. "There was no guarantee that taking him to rehab would work, or that he'd even go in the first place. My dad told me once that when an addict is clean for a while, the first dose can be fatal because their bodies aren't used to it anymore. "

"Just don't."He pulled away from me and stood to walk into the kitchen.

When I followed he was at the window, fist resting against the wall and head bowed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't think you should take this onto yourself.""

He turned to me, eyes glassy, "But he was my responsibility and I failed him. Don't you see that?"

I didn't. We all held a piece of it. But Tyler held the largest part, and that was why it was so devastating.

"But you didn't. You didn't put the baggie in his hand. You didn't force him to put a needle in to his arm. You were there for him and he chose to ignore that."

Edward turned and walked by where I was standing in the doorway. He spoke without looking at me, and his voice made my insides turn to stone. "I'm going out."

"Edward—"

He grabbed his coat without looking at me and left.

The night passed slowly after that. I watched television to pass the time, not really paying much attention until a clip on the local evening news ran about a gathering of people at the fountain in Seattle Center holding a candlelight vigil.

The sight of easily a hundred people—or maybe more—was touching and I wished I'd known about it sooner. The anchors with their helmet-sized hair were that sort of fake-sympathetic that grated my nerves, though, and I switched the television off after the piece had ran and they'd moved on to local sports talk.

Edward leaving here in such a bad mood worried me. I didn't like him snapping at me when all I wanted to do was make him see things from another side, because it sounded to me like he was placing too much blame on himself. And yet I also regretted the words I'd chosen because maybe he just wasn't ready to hear them yet.

Sometimes, figuring out the right thing to say left me wishing I had just not said anything at all.

Rose had called earlier, assured me that he was fine when he'd shown up at Emmett's place. Apparently they'd headed down to the beach at Golden Gardens, so at least I knew he wasn't out there alone tonight. We'd also spoken about Ty's mother some and made plans to go see her together tomorrow, and then she'd gotten off the phone to go pass out.

When the clock switched over to midnight and there was still no sign of Edward, I finally crawled in bed.

Sleep was elusive, though, so I watched the shadows on the ceiling change, praying that Edward was okay.

I'd never, ever seen him so upset, and while maybe not as much as him, I was hurting, too. The entire day had been spent either alone with no word on what the latest news was, or with me floundering for the right words to say and flubbing them, anyway. I was processing the loss of Tyler, too.

It was close to two a.m. when the door to the apartment opened. As quiet as he was trying to be, I was awake and could hear him enter the bedroom and start to drop his things on the dresser.

And, from the strong smell of smoke and whiskey, I knew he'd dealt with his pain by trying to become oblivious to it.

"You don't have to leave the light off, I'm awake."

I shifted my body, turning away from the window I'd been staring out and toward the bedroom door. He left the light off anyway and stumbled to the bed, removing his shoes and going down to boxers and a t-shirt. He lay back on the bed next to me, close but not touching.

"Did you know they had a vigil for him down at Seattle Center?" I asked, hoping to get him to talk to me.

After a few seconds he answered. "Yeah. Em and I actually ended up going."

Oh. Again, I wished I'd known . . . or that he'd have asked me to come, too. "How was it?"

"Pretty cool. Ty would've loved it. Little fucker." He closed his eyes and a grim smile painted his lips.

"I bet he was there, ya know? Ghosting around and stuff. He wouldn't miss a gathering of people like that." I took a deep breath and scooted toward him, fingers dancing on the skin just below his sleeve. "I'm so sorry, babe."

With a deep sigh, he turned his head and rolled to gather me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him as tightly as he hugged me, and kissed his collar bone. His body quivered, and I thought he might be about to break down, but he took a deep breath and then kissed my forehead instead.

"I love you."

"I know," he replied.

I fell asleep listening to the thrum of his heart, a bass line of its own.

-PoM-

The sheets were cold beside me the next morning when I woke. Edward had obviously been up for a while, so I took my time in a shower and getting dressed, and then I headed toward the kitchen where I heard him rattling around.

He was pouring a cup of coffee when I cleared my throat.

"Morning. Want a cup?"

"Thanks," I said, tentatively.

The smile he gave me wasn't quite his usual, but it least it was there. When I sat down at the kitchen table he sat across from me, notepad in front of him.

"I've been going over what we need to do. We don't have any shows for a few weeks, so we're going to have to find someone quick to fill in. Get some rehearsals in."

I furrowed my brow and watched him scribble something down.

"I think there's a guy available from Log Jam that might be able to do it. I was thinking about the kid from Fish, but then again . . . no."

The words were rushed, moving from one option to the next with no room in between to counter them. I knew he was trying to cope by not thinking about Ty but the band instead, and if it what he needed to do to was ignore the elephant in the room for a few days until he was ready to talk, I would, too.

"Well . . . um, how about Leah?" I offered. "She's talented and I'm sure she already knows quite a bit of your material. Her and Ty hung out a lot last summer."

He looked up from the notepad. "That's not a bad idea. Do you have her number?"

"Sure, but she's probably working this morning."

"Maybe I'll head over there . . ." He got up again, movements hurried. "You want to go down there with me?"

"Um, sure. Let me get dressed."

-PoM-

The next few days Edward turned in to a workaholic. He made plans for practices, called around to Rose to find out what needed to be done. Every once in a while I'd catch him hovering over his notebook, still at last, but he never wrote anything down.

There were no tears. He got aggravated at little things and was quick to choice expletives when he got irritated, but it was the most I'd seen from him emotion-wise.

And that worried me. The busyness I understood to some extent. Keeping his mind going probably made him push darker thoughts away, and that was all well and good, but he wasn't really dealing with it. He wasn't one to show his internal stuff—it all came out in his music—and I wished he'd channel some of his grief that way. But after the blow up the night of Ty's death, I was reluctant to offer any more opinions.

Ty's mother had stopped by Edward's two days after her son's body had been found carting a box of stuff. There were notes and drawings and random sheets of music she wanted Edward to have. He'd retrieved them last night and they sat in a neat pile in front of him on the coffee table—untouched.

I stayed close, not hovering but making sure he had something to eat or an ear to bend when he needed to bounce ideas.

But he hadn't gotten mad at me again. He was distant but there, and it seemed my being around was good enough for right now, so I worked on my own things. Peter, who it always seemed was giving me time off, was letting me work from home on a blurb I had been working on for another album review.

I walked over to where Edward was sitting on the couch. "I'm gonna head down to the office for a bit then stop by the apartment to get some clothes."

He didn't look up but mumbled through then pen in his mouth. "M'kay."

I turned to leave and he shot his hand out, pulling me by the waistband of my jeans back over to him. His fingers curled under my t-shirt, slipped inside and stroked my back. . "See you when you get home?"

I smiled at him, leaning down to kiss his lips. "Yeah."

Later, at my own apartment, Rose and I were curled up on each end of the couch together under a blanket.

"How's everyone doing?"

"Em's wrecked, but, honestly, I think he sort of expected it, too. Jasper's being all introspective at the moment; I think it kind of hit him hard. And poor Ben's a mess. I would be too if I found someone like that."

"Yeah, Edward's not taking it to well. I mean, he acts like everything's okay but I know he's not dealing with it well. And he won't talk to me at all about it at all."

"Everybody handles grief their own way. Especially guys. Girls cry until their soul is clean and guys aren't programmed that way. And they're in a band. When things are good, they share the praise . . . but they also have to share the blame, too. I just hope it doesn't take him down the wrong road."

"You and me both."

-PoM-

* * *

_Wow. Love, love, love your comments. . Thank you to anyone who has pimped this out—so cool. And lots of new readers! Would love to hear where you heard about the story in your comments!_

_Song – Garden – Pearl Jam_

_Thank you nic for listening to me babble. xo_


	24. Cord

**Word Prompt**: Cord

**Plot Generator - ** Making a mountain out of a molehill.

* * *

-PoM-

Rain fell steadily, gusts of wind pushing water through the sides of the blue tarp we stood assembled under and soaking the people standing on the fringe. The weather seemed to fit that day's overall mood: somber, sad, and a little bit angry. I huddled closer to Edward, craving his warmth because my bare legs were freezing.

I tried not to notice how his body shook as the Catholic Priest blessed the casket once more, instead tightening my arm around his waist in a silent show of support. Rose wrapped her free arm around me, Emmett on her other side, the rest of the band behind us. They'd all been the pallbearers, alongside two guys Ty had gone to school with.

Tyler's mother's cries were heartbreaking, and I wiped at my eyes with the wadded tissue that was practically useless by this point.

"May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace."

As if a signal had been given, the congregation of mourners began to move, whispers buzzing like wasps as they unfroze from their stoicism and got in line to pay final respects, or took off running for their cars.

Eventually there was just a small group of people left—the last of Tyler's small family, the guys, me and Rose.

My heart broke for what seemed the hundredth time today when Edward and Jasper, Emmett and Ben formed a circle around the casket, bent their heads together in unison, and said their final goodbyes.

"This just isn't right," Rose whispered to me, arm going around my shoulder to pull me into a hug. "We shouldn't be here doing this."

And I knew what she meant. From the wake last night until this moment right now, I'd felt like I was in dreamland—not fully awake because, no matter how much people whispered that the funeral home had done a good job making him look like himself, they were wrong; because Lauren not even having the decency to show her face was both a good thing and a bad one—I worried for her if Rose caught her out and about; because seeing Tyler laying so still was awful; because knowing Edward wasn't dealing with this at all was the hardest part.

When we left the cemetery in separate cars so he could go be with the guys, I tried to play off the fresh round of tears to Rose as leftover from having to say goodbye.

-PoM-

Edward threw himself back into the band after that. Long hours were spent in rehearsal trying to get Leah up to snuff. More time was spent with Jasper going over the band's new trajectory. The short tour they'd had planned for the month after the album release was put on hold in favor of more local shows in Vancouver, Spokane and Portland so they could get a feel for how Leah played in front of an audience.

"I think she'll be great," I said.

"Yeah, she'll do fine." Edward pushed his plate aside.

I pushed my plate away, too. It was a week after Tyler's funeral and the first night Edward and I had spent any semblance of time together. We were eating dinner together at my apartment while Rose and Emmett went to a movie.

"Is everything else going okay?"

He glanced down at the table and then stood on a sigh, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. I turned around in my chair and watched him as he stacked them in the dishwasher.

"It is what it is," he said. The dishwasher door slammed closed and he turned around, crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the sink. "It's hard adjusting to a new member—we went through the same thing with Ben."

"Yeah, but you guys swung it just fine," I reasoned. "You did it and you did it well. You got a contract because of it. It'll work out."

"Yeah, well, we have to prove it to the label. They've been riding our asses all week about 'getting back out there' and it's fucking annoying."

"I didn't know that . . ." Of course, maybe if we saw more of each other, I might.

"Didn't Rose tell you?"

I bristled. "No, _Rose_ didn't tell me. See, that's the thing about dating the lead singer—people assume you know what's actually going on because you're supposed to be in the loop."

I stood and headed to the living room, grabbed my cigarettes, and walked onto the small balcony overlooking our street. I shivered, wishing I'd thought to grab a jacket because the night was chilly following another day of fog and drizzle, but there was no way I was going back in there right now.

All week long I'd thrown myself into schoolwork and gave most of my extra hours to the paper just to have something to do, and I'd been frazzled and on the verge of an explosion because of it. The constant schedule was too much all at once; some days I thought about giving up one of them. And, lately, the paper seemed to be winning the tug-of-war.

"You done?" he asked.

I turned and held up my half-finished cigarette. "Nope."

"Good. Didn't want to be out here alone."

He lit his smoke and then pulled me to stand between his legs, chin resting on top of my head and lips at my ear. One of his arms banded around my stomach and stroked it through the fabric.

"What's got you so stressed out?"

I exhaled a long breath, threw my cigarette into the ashtray. "Work, school . . . everything. I feel like I'm lit at both ends and eventually the fire's gonna meet in the middle. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"No big deal. We're both feeling the pressure, I guess. "

I leaned back into his embrace. There were moments lately where I thought he was pulling away and I didn't know how to hold on, but times like these made me realize how much I wanted to fight for that grasp. I tried not to think about the tour coming up soon because we'd deal with it the same way we always had, or maybe by then I'd know what I wanted to do.

"So, work and school are stressin' ya. Can you drop one of them? If you're worried about money, you don't need to be, Bella. I've told you that before."

"It's not the money, not really. I'm still not letting you pay my way. I think it's just that I'm at a crossroads and the decision is hard to make."

"Are you thinking about leaving school?" He turned me around, bent down until his eyes were level with mine. "Because I thought your degree was important."

"It was. It is. It . . . I don't know anymore. I really, really like working at the paper. Peter gives me interesting assignments and I learn so much more actually 'on the job' than I do in my classes. I like the people I work with and it's something I could see myself doing every day and loving. But then I think about how much money I'll waste by not completing my degree, and what if I need it down the road?"

"Do what feels best, Bella. School will always be there if you decide to let it go for the time being. And there will always be another job around the corner if you think that you want to stick out your degree."

"Yeah. I'll figure it out eventually. Hey, thanks for the talk. You made me feel a little better."

"Figured I'd pay you back for all the times you've made me feel better."

He kissed me then, soft and sweet and slow, and some of the stress floated away in to the night.

-PoM-

"Bella, I need to talk to you."

"Sure thing, bossman." I followed Peter in to his office, took a set while he closed the door shut firmly behind us.

"I have something I think you're the best person for, and I want to discuss it with you."

I sat straighter. "The suspense is killin' me."

He chuckled. "Funny. Look, I want a piece written on Tyler Crowley. The kid had an awful lot of talent and it's a shame he's gone now. And the readers were paying attention to him. We've been flooded with requests for something about him, and the head office wants it done. I do, too."

I looked down at my hands. "It's a very personal topic for me. I . . . I don't know what to say."

"I think, because you were his friend, you could give him a great tribute. You knew him almost as well as the other members of the band and I can't think of anyone else better to do it."

I didn't even have to think about it. "I hope I can do him justice."

"I know you will."

Later that day I came up with a plan. There were the usual memorial pieces I could structure my article on, but I didn't want to. I wanted it to be vibrant—memories of Ty from the people that knew him well, remarks on what he accomplished in his time on earth that rejoiced in him rather than making him yet another cautionary tale. So, instead of phoning it in, I told Peter I was going to do some research and hit the streets and Ty's usual haunts.

The waitress at the coffee bar he and Edward had liked to frequent, where they'd sit and talk about music and life, told me about how he always made his own coffee when she was busy, or left her an extra tip because he knew she was a single mother. And Ty had been the product of a single home environment.

The bartender at the Central Tavern was happy to give me an interview. The club was one he'd drag people just to go hear new bands because he liked anything and everything he could listen to. The bartender mentioned that he'd jump up on stage often and jam out to classic rock as a way to end the night, how he'd inevitably begin playing the opening to _Smoke On the Water _before the night was out.

There was a guitar shop in the U-District where they'd let him sit and play for hours and he gave lessons at in the days before the band made it big. They gave me names of the kids he'd taught—the future of music, maybe.

The skateboard shop where he hung out to pass the time before they hit the road was full of friends of Ty's that even I didn't know, and I sat there for longer than the others because the stories they told made me laugh and cry and just glad I'd had a chance to know someone so amazing.

His mother's house was my last stop, and even though she cried telling me about Ty growing up, she thanked me at the end of the visit, too, pushing picture albums in to my hands and telling me to use whatever I wanted. I hugged her goodbye, made her a promise that she'd get a chance to look at the article before it even ran, and then told her I'd see her soon.

The next day I headed to school and spent the rest of the afternoon in the library. I had a paper due, and I got that started, but mostly I combed over my notes for the article. Yesterday I'd talked to everyone I knew had touched him in some way, save for the guys who I'd talk to later, and I had attempted to write down every anecdote, every story that people had to tell. Some I was going to have to recheck if I wanted to run them because I didn't think I had the details exactly right.

As I began to structure my outline, I was bowled over by the fact that he was not just loved by the band as a bass player, or Rose and I as a friend; by Shelley as a son. There were so many people who loved him because he wanted to be everyone's friend.

When the library began to clear out, I packed up my stuff and headed home, exhausted.

There was a message from Edward on the answering machine when I got to my apartment.

"_Hey, um, give me a call."_

Not confident about the tone of his voice, I dialed his number

"Hey. It's me."

"Hi, where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you."

"I had to go to the library after school to start on something for classes and work a little on something I'm doing at the paper."

He'd been busy with rehearsals last night when I got home so I hadn't gotten a chance to tell him what was going on yet; I decided then that I would wait until it was perfect, and then I'd let him read it.

"I figured you guys were rehearsing tonight so I thought I'd just come back here and crash since I have school in the morning."

There was a tapping in the background. "I thought you were going to be here when I got home."

I didn't want this to turn into an argument, not after the good time we'd had a few nights before. "How about I plan to be there tomorrow when you're done? It's Friday and we can have a night to ourselves."

"Whatever works."

His flippant attitude brought me to the verge of tears. "Edward, please—"

He sighed heavily into the phone. "I'll just talk to you tomorrow. Okay?"

I hung up the phone and stared at it for a few moments. I was getting tired of the double standards. When he didn't have time to spend with me, I understood . . . usually. I didn't always like it, but it wasn't an argument I felt worth the hassle. He'd forgotten to tell me things in the past, like when he was leaving for Wisconsin or the thing about Leah and the label, but I do it one time and I'm the bad guy?

If Edward and I were one cord bound tightly together, why did I feel like it was starting to loosen?

Not wanting to let myself spiral in to a sadness I might not climb out of for a few days, I took a shower and went to bed.

It was late when I woke to a sound I couldn't quite place at first. I turned over groggily, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

Edward, illuminated by the moonlight, stood at the edge of my bed, covers in hand and wearing only his boxers.

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight." The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled over me and in to bed, pulling me against him to spoon.

The heat of his skin felt good against my back. "I'm glad you have a key."

He burrowed his head into my hair. "I don't want to fight."

"I know," I said pulling his arms more tightly around me. "I'm just glad you're here."

When I woke the next morning he was gone.

-PoM-

My desk felt like a prison cell that day. Thoughts swirled in my head, all angry and sad and hard to deal with, and I rubbed my fingers back and forth over my brow, running over every conversation we'd had over the last couple of days.

"How's your piece coming along?"

I glanced up from my thoughts and to Peter. "I'm almost finished. Just running the red pen over a few places."

"I had something come up short notice and I was wondering if you'd be able to swing it."

"Sure. What is it?"

"There's a band in Salt Lake City made up of local Seattle guys who took their act down there."

"That's kind of unusual. Why would they do that?"

"Well, the scene up here has been entrenched metal and grunge for so long, they wanted to see what they could do there."

I nodded—that was certainly true. "What kind of music do they play?"

"They're like a cross between the B-52's and Violent Femmes."

That was actually pretty perfect. "I'm so in, when do you want me to go?"

"This weekend."

The band had a show in Vancouver Thursday and then Portland on Saturday, and both of them were ones I desperately didn't want to miss. Leah was making her debut and I wanted to be there to support everyone, especially Edward.

He was pulling further and further away and I was frightened I wouldn't be able to get him back. There were tiny glimpses of hope—last night when he'd said he didn't want to fight; the night we'd talked about school and he'd promised me things would get better. But, mostly, he'd just shut down.

And did I really want to add to that?

"The guys have their first show since . . . you know. I kind of wanted to be there. It can't be any other weekend?"

"The arrangements have been made already. I can let someone else take it. I just thought of you first. Your work has been outstanding lately."

Even after all of my absences lately, or him letting me go on the road with the guys, that Peter still thought my work was good enough to give me opportunities pretty much sealed it for me. Edward would understand—he should, at least. I couldn't always be the one bending over backwards.

"I'm glad you think that. I'd love to go. When do I leave?"

"Thursday, so you can catch two nights of shows, back Saturday. It won't put you too tight leaving after school?"

"No, it shouldn't," I said vaguely. "I'm out by noon."

"Great. I'll get Jess to line up your itinerary. Make sure you drop off your article on Tyler before you go."

"I will. Thank you for thinking of me."

Wanting to test the waters, I called Rose when I got back to my desk. "Hello?"

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Laundry and picking up the mess I left last time I whirled through here. Are you at work?"

"Yeah. I just got offered a huge opportunity."

"Hell yeah! So why do you sound so glum, then?"

"I'm not, not really. I get to cover a band of local guys in Salt Lake City and the show sounds fun."

"Right on. If you're so thrilled then why the mopey voice, chick?"

"It's this weekend."

"So, go! We'll be doing what we always do. And you can catch up with us when you can."

"You know Edward's not going to be happy about it."

She sat there for a moment and the longer that moment stretched, the more uneasy I became.

"He'll be fine. He knows what this means to you."

"I hope so."

-PoM-

Rose offered up the suggestion of tempering my news with an offering of a home cooked meal, so I called Edward after we hung up.

"I can't, I gotta run with Emmett down to Tacoma to pick up another amplifier. I don't think we'll be back until later. Maybe a raincheck?"

Well, crap. "I have something I need to talk to you about. It's kind of important."

"Good, I hope?"

"_I _think so. Peter's sending me on my first trip to cover a band of local guys."

"Sounds great. Where are you going?"

"Salt Lake."

"That's cool. When do you leave?"

"That's the thing. It's . . . this weekend."

I twirled the phone cord around my hand, watching as it tensed up tighter and tighter the longer he sat silent.

"Did you forget that we have Vancouver and Portland this weekend?"

"No, I didn't forget. I just couldn't turn it down because he offered it to me first before anyone else. Listen, I looked at the itinerary and I _know_ I can make Portland by show time. I could fly there instead of home."

"Whatever. Do what you gotta do. No need to rush home or anything."

"Babe, don't be like that. This is important to me."

"Yeah, and it's great. Hey, I need to take off. Em's waiting."

I said goodbye and then watched the phone cord loosen, spinning fast until it lay limp and stretched out.

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you so much for your comments!_

_Song – River of Deceit – Mad Season_


	25. Beguile

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompts:** Beguile, belittle, bewilder

-PoM-

"Are we ever going to get there?"

The person in the seat next to me looked my way, staring pointedly at my bouncing kneecap.

"Sweetie, don't give yourself a heart attack," she said. We've got twelve planes ahead of us. This isn't going to be quick."

I tried to stop the nervous jiggling of my foot because it made our seats bounce. "It's just that I've got somewhere to be tonight and it's kind of important."

"Me too, but you trying to shake the plane into the air isn't going to get us there any faster."

Relieved that at least she didn't seem aggravated—because that wouldn't make for a good flight—I looked out of the window again. Like my willing the plane to move would even work. "Sorry, I'll try to stop."

Currently I was sitting on a plane, still on the tarmac, and in Salt Lake . . . two hours after I was supposed to be in the air. My flight had been delayed twice before I could even board, and now our flight was one of many in line to be de-iced. My fingers twitched toward my bag constantly for a cigarette only to draw short when I realized, yet again, that the other passengers probably wouldn't like that.

Because getting kicked off of the plane entirely certainly wouldn't get me to Portland any faster.

Eventually we were cleared for takeoff, and I stewed the entire flight because it would be midnight before I got to the hotel now and the show I'd promised to be at would be over and done with. And Edward, whom I hadn't spoken to for more than a handful of minutes after telling him I was going on my assignment, would undoubtedly be pissed.

By the time my flight landed I was past frustrated and simply on the verge of tears. Even though I'd enjoyed the show I was sent to see, today had been nothing but long delays and missed connections—and all I really wanted was to just get to Edward.

-PoM-

When the cab dropped me off at the front of the hotel, the cute jeans and shirt I'd changed in to at the airport in Salt Lake looked like I'd lived in them for days and my hair was a mess. I stood in front of the doors, my appearance reflected back at me through the gleaming glass, and wondered if the employees of this rather nice establishment would kick me out for looking like a homeless person.

"Fuck it." I lifted my bag over my shoulder and opened the door. The lobby was busy but not terribly so, and a little bar off to the side had sounds of raucous laughter and classic rock hits spilling out of the open door.

I glanced at my watch, saw it was just after midnight. Well, score one for me on getting _something _right today. The show probably had just finished but it would be stupid to try and head over to the club now that it was so late. Deciding to wait for the guys and Rose to show up, I headed for the bar.

The inside was dark, smoky, and rather full. I glanced toward the bar and saw a single empty chair with what I hoped would be a decent view of the lobby. Ready for a drink after an excruciating day, I started over and then stopped in my tracks.

The head of hair sitting at a seat five down from the open one was easily recognizable: too long, not combed, all fiery autumn and streaks of sunshine. Edward sat at the bar with his head bent low over a glass of amber colored liquid, and to his right sat a blonde I recognized, too.

Tanya.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, my brain whispered at me to just save face and run. I batted that train of thought away, fury bubbling up because _Oh no you don't. _

The bar was crowded enough that I was able to walk right up behind them unnoticed; was able to hear that they were deep in conversation; was able to see her lean her head in close to him while his words spilled out.

". . . really fucking miss him. Everything has gone to fucking hell since he died, and I'm sick of it all. Jasper's lost his focus and can't get shit done. Rose keeps playing the 'I told you so' card." His voice took on a high pitch, mocking, and the slurred words and tilting of his of his head closer to his glass were a dead giveaway that he was beyond obliterated. "The suits at the label are a bunch of assholes. And Ty's gone and I can't talk to anyone about it. I just . . . I wish he was still around. "

He couldn't talk to _any_one besides Tanya?

"You poor thing," she cooed. "What about your girl. Isn't her name like, Belinda or something? She seems like one of those types that just _loves _to listen to other people's problems."

I dropped my bag, hands balling in to fists.

He hunched lower over his glass, shoulders tensing. "Bella. she's always gone . . ."

Smooth as could be, Tanya, turned her head in his direction; a beguiling imitation of the most understanding listener save for the smug smile she wore. She leaned in to him further, moving to place her hand on his leg.

Before she could even get close to touching him, I spoke up. "Edward."

His head jerked up and he turned, squinting at me and trying to focus. His eyes were glassy, face splotchy and devoid of emotion. He was so obviously wasted, and that she'd try to play her stupid games when he was so out of it had me seeing red.

"So you decided to show up,'" said Tanya, sitting back in her seat.

"For whatever reason, you seem to think this is your business—" I gestured between Edward and myself— "and it's not. I think it's time for you to move along."

She shrugged, taking a slow sip of her drink and faced toward the front. The bartender had moved down to the other end and it was then I noticed the bar had a mirror behind the bottles . . . and I was clearly visible in it.

So, she'd known I was there. Nice.

"Hey, I was just here talking to an old friend who needed _someone _to lend an ear."

"How gracious of you to take out time from your busy backstage activities."

"I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not going to stand here and let you belittle me . . ."

I inserted myself into the space between their seats, and looked over my shoulder at her, eyes narrowed because I was done being baited. "Oh, I know who you are. Seen it too many times to count. You're just an opportunist, nothing more. And, like I said, it's time for you to go."

Edward, eyes glazed over, went to grab my hips and I heard her chair scratch when she grabbed her bag and left. I took her seat.

"How long you been here?" he said, slurring.

"Long enough."

Anger gave way to hurt, and it cascaded like a waterfall inside my chest. I'd rushed around like crazy to get here as soon as I could—for him—and instead found him turning to someone else because he _couldn't _talk to_ me_ about what was going on? And I was always gone?

That was such bull. I wasn't Tanya; my life wasn't focused on the next guy who could pay my way while I traipsed behind him to the next concert stop. I had my own dreams and aspirations just like Edward had his—and it wasn't fair to ask that I give mine up completely to focus solely on his.

I'd seen it too often growing up with a mother who dated guy after guy, changing herself to fit their tastes until she was no longer recognizable as her own person. And I didn't want to be defined by my relationship with someone.

I wanted my relationship with Edward to be a partnership.

He turned away from me then, concentrating on his drink. "How was your trip? Get the big scoop, Miss Rock Journalist?"

"Don't start. You're not going to pick a fight with me in public just because you're in a bad mood and drunk. If anyone should be mad, it's me. You should be talking to me, not her. _I_ am your girlfriend and I've tried to be here for you in any way I could, aching because I've been doing the best I can to help you get through this. And you've done nothing but push me away every single time."

"Fuck, I was just talking to her. She showed up and started talking to me."

I leaned closer and looked him straight in the eye. "I don't give a fuck about her. She's not the problem."

The man next to us—obviously clued in to what was going on—cleared his throat and stood up, muttering something about not being able to get a drink in peace.

Edward, still quiet, picked up his glass and finished half of it in one gulp.

"I can't do this alone, Edward. We have to do this together or it won't work."

I watched as he raised a finger to the bartender for another drink. My shoulders stiffened when the bartender put another glass of whiskey in front of Edward. "You want a drink?" he asked me.

"No thank you."

Edward gave me a sidelong glance and picked up the stir stick, tossed it in front of him, and raised the glass to his lips.

"And that won't help either."

He sighed. "My friend died, okay? He got into a place he couldn't pull out of and he fucking died. And I didn't do shit to save him. And then you're always gone and up to your own thing, and so to take my mind off it, I have a drink every now and then."

My voice lost some of the harshness. "So talk to me about it instead of shutting me out. How about finding the guy I fell in love with for me? Nice guy, fought like hell for me about a year ago, treated me nicely. I know he's in there somewhere."

Saying the words conjured up all sorts of memories that broke my heart, and I looked down to hide the tears forming in my eyes. Because the guy next to me, the surly, brooding asshole? He wasn't the one who owned my soul. But I'd also heard the words he confided to Tanya because, apparently, he didn't feel like he could talk to me anymore.

And that just plain hurt because all I'd been trying to do for weeks was to get him to talk to me.

After a few minutes of tense silence, I realized that waiting for him to answer was fruitless. He was in a mood and drunk to boot, and the words on the tip of my tongue were ones I didn't want to put out there right now. So I picked up my bag and rose from my seat, pausing to see if he was going to come, too.

He hunched back over his drink, lifted his eyes to the television set in the corner.

"Okay, fine," I mumbled, tears choking my voice.

I was a couple of steps away from him when he finally spoke. "I fucking knew it."

I stopped walking and turned back. "What?"

"Figured you'd run away when shit got to be too much."

The nasty words settled deep, just as he probably knew they would.

But they also set loose a maelstrom of checked emotion. I stepped back toward him and spoke in a low tone laced with venom.

"How dare you. I'm here right now because, no matter that it was a fucking hassle to do and I had a really shitty day, I wanted to be here for you tonight. Just because my job doesn't make me famous doesn't mean that it's not as important as yours. You're pissed that I missed a show? Well, I'm sorry. Remind me about that next time something in _my _life comes up and you're not there for it."

He said nothing, just looked at me, so I continued. "I love you more than _any _other person in the world, so forgive me for not wanting to sit by and watch you destroy yourself, and also not wanting to sit back and take it when you treat me like I don't give a shit. I know what I want and it happens to be you. I don't, however, want some petulant, cliché 'rockstar' who lashes out when he doesn't get his way or hides his pain behind a freaking bottle."

"I don't—"

"Nope, you poked at me until I exploded, so I'm having my say now. Where has the guy that Ty looked up to gone? You need to take a long hard look at yourself, Edward, and see through all of the bullshit to what's really going on inside of you. Because, me? I'm not the scared, young girl you met in Phoenix. I've grown up a lot and started to understand what I do and do not want out of life. And, by the way? I'm not the one running here—you are."

And that was it. Any longer and I would dissolve in to tears, and I didn't want to do that. Not here and certainly not now.

I'd already made a fool out of myself in front of an audience once tonight.

Along the way out I bumped in to Jasper, who stared at me in bewilderment. I started to brush past him but he took a hold of my arm to keep me from storming out of the hotel.

"Bella, Bella. Stop." He pulled me into a corner of the lobby and stepped back, taking in my tear-streaked face. What's going on? What happened to you?"

"You need to go take care of Edward. I'm going home."

-PoM-

* * *

_Song – Once – Pearl Jam_


	26. By George

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt: **Cafeteria

**Word Flex: **"Don't Say Another Word"

-PoM-

Twisting away from Jasper, I grabbed my bags and burst through the lobby door onto the sidewalk.

I took a deep breath and wiped my hand across my eyes, roughly pushing the tears away. There was no sense in crying over someone who didn't even have the balls to talk to me. And talking to Tanya, of all people, about me? That was just a low-blow.

The air had a bite to it tonight and it broke through my scattered thoughts, providing a sense of reality. One glance down the street clued me in to the fact that there taxis wouldn't be plentiful at this time of night. I wasn't even about to walk to the airport this late at night—though, really, I hadn't given much thought to a means of getting home to begin with. I'd just wanted out of that hotel.

So, it looked like I was going to try to find a bus to take me back to Seattle; well, either that or hitch a ride if I was really feeling desperate.

I was still standing in front of the hotel when Rose and Em appeared from around the corner of the connecting street, all happy smiles and arm-in-arm.

"Hey, chick," she yelled. The smile she wore melted as she got closer to where I stood. She rushed over and grabbed my arm. "What the hell? What's wrong?"

"Please don't ask me that right now. I just want to go home. Do you have your car here?"

Frowning and obviously trying to assess the situation, she turned to look in the lobby. My gaze followed hers.

Jasper, who looked like he was speaking harshly, was restraining Edward not ten feet from where I stood. I turned away because I didn't want to see him right now, my breath catching on a sob I'd just sworn to myself wouldn't happen.

Rose looked at me again, taking in my slumped shoulders and pitiful face. Her hand wrapped around mine and she tugged me away from the door. "Did he do something to you?"

"No, just . . . please, can you take me home. Or let me borrow your car, whichever. I mean, if you don't want to leave I can just—"

She cut off my babbling by speaking over it. "Emmett, we're leaving. Can you catch a ride home with the guys? "

"Now?"

Her sharp look gave him the answer.

"Yeah, sure." He handed her the keys and looked at me. "Are you okay, Bella?"

I didn't really know so I just shrugged.

"Don't be sad," he said. "There's enough of that going around already. He's been in a shitty mood, but don't let him get to you." He put his hands on my shoulders, waited until I looked at him. "You don't deserve his attitude, okay?"

I nodded, fresh tears filling my eyes because Emmett was truly one of a kind; like Teflon or something. I wished I could be like that. "Thanks, Em. Sorry for ruining your night."

"Somehow, I doubt it was your fault. Rose, I'll call you when I get home."

"Here, give me your backpack and purse," Rose said, gesturing.

I passed her the bags and followed when she began to move in the opposite direction, which just so happened to take us past the hotel entrance again. Even though she told me not to look, I still did.

Jasper and Emmett were crowded around Edward, who was raising what looked like a ruckus. When our eyes met he pushed out of Jasper's hold and started toward the door, but Emmett stepped in, blocking his face from view and pushing him back toward the elevator.

_Now _he wanted to talk to me—now, when I had already said what I'd needed to say and he'd sat there like a mute, polished off his drink, and ended by making a crack about me running away. Fury tasted hot and metallic on my tongue, and I straightened my shoulders and moved to catch up to Rose.

Just . . . fuck him.

"That's my girl," Rose said, nodding to where her car sat in the parking lot. "Let's blow this joint, eh?"

Not ready to talk, I cranked up the radio when we got in and let some loud, angry music fuel my ire.

When we crossed the sign that told us we were leaving Portland, I wished the city good riddance and settled back into my seat to stare out the window.

Rose, who knew my moods, let me stew until we reached the freeway. "You want to talk about it?"

I sighed, turned to look at her. "Honestly, after having one of the shittiest days ever on record? Not really."

"We have a two hour drive, you know. I'm going to get it out of you sooner or later, so you might as well fill the time."

Knowing she wouldn't give up, I tried to run back over the night, figure out where everything went to hell in a handbasket.

"First my flight was delayed over and over again, so I got here too late to head to the club. I figured, what the fuck, I'll wait for them in the bar, right? Only, when I got in there, Edward was already occupying a seat with Tanya at his side. And then we had a blowout right there."

"Damn it. I saw her lurking around the show but I thought she was with another group of people."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She wasn't really the problem."

"So you're telling me you didn't get mad that she was with him?"

"No. She's the least of my worries. Really."

Her lips formed a thin line. She'd been witness to me hanging around the apartment more and more lately by myself, and though I blew it off as time needed to work or study, I knew she knew things between Edward and I had grown rockier the past few weeks. "You know I'm a good listener."

"I do. And when I need to talk about it, I'll come to you. But, I dunno, it's just something that he needs to figure out before we even talk . . . if we do at all."

"That bad, huh?"

"It's pretty bad," I agreed, leaning my head against the window and wrapping my arms around myself to fight off the chill that had settled into my bones. "I don't know what to even do about it. I mean, I know what _I _want, but maybe that's just wishful thinking."

Rose took her hand off the wheel, steered with her knees while she reached behind her and unearthed a blanket from the backseat. "Here, put this over you. Something's wrong with my heater."

I spread the blanket over my legs. "Thanks. What's wrong with your car? It's practically brand new."

"Eh, they don't say a Ford is found on the roadside dead for nothing. Damn thing is falling apart already. And if I was actually getting paid to do all the shit I do, maybe I could afford to get it looked at. I ate my warranty up traveling around to shows and shit already, so . . ."

Surprised, I looked at her. "Damn, Rose. You could have told me. What about your inheritance?"

She laughed. "Pssh, I'm on the last five hundred dollars of it. Either the band is gonna make me their official manager or I'm looking for a job in Seattle. I love Emmett, but I can't just follow him around for free."

I felt like an asshole for being so worried about my own problems that I hadn't asked her how she was doing.

"What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to do the manager thing. I don't know, it seems like something I'm good at. I don't understand half of the legal shit, but I can book a show and do the minutia of odd jobs that need done on an hourly basis. And I'm the best when it comes to haggling a club for a bigger cut of the door when it's deserved. But I can't do it for free, either. We'll see."

I nodded like I understood and lapsed back in to silence, once again replaying the events of tonight in my head.

Rose reached over and patted my leg. "I love you and you know it, chick. It'll all work out."

-PoM-

When we reached the apartment, I was so exhausted that I climbed into my bed with my clothes on. Weird, semi-realistic dreams followed me to sleep, and I woke a few times convinced I was at a bar with Edward and he was dumping me to go play in a pit of marshmallows.

The sun was shining through my windows when I woke a few hours later. It wasn't enough sleep and my limbs felt like lead, so I crossed the room to close the curtains and crawled back in bed . . . but I just ended up staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Eventually Rose woke up, too, and I heard her puttering around the front room. I turned on to my side and pulled a pillow over my head and tried to go back to sleep.

"_. . . yeah, she's okay. Just exhausted. . ." _

I sat up, rubbed my yes, and looked at the clock. My door was open, somehow, and I wondered if Rose had peeked in or me or something.

"_Put his ass on . . ." _

Obviously she was on the phone in her room and I stood up from my bed, her aggravated voice drawing me closer to the hallway.

"_I don't know what the hell you did, but you have a lot of fucking nerve. I suggest you dry yourself out and get your shit together . . . No, she's sleeping. Just give her some space. Got it? . . . Put Emmett back on . . ."_

I honestly wasn't sure how I felt yet about Edward—and she was talking to him, of that I was sure—wanting to see me so soon after our fight. Six months ago I probably wouldn't even have gone off on him, but six months ago he was a different person, too. So was I.

I thought that I did want some time to myself. There were things I needed to sort out in my own head, decisions I needed to make sure I was ready for. And lots of questions I needed to answer about what I would and would no longer put up with.

"_. . . Hi, babe. Good thing he's not here, I'd. . .whatever, you know I could. . . Yeah, I'm going to stay here with her for a bit. Love you, too."_

I closed my eyes, embarrassed I'd dragged everyone into it. This wasn't their problem to deal with.

Rose walked out of her room and to my door, drawing back when she came face to face with me.

"Guess you heard that?"

"Yeah. I'm . . . gonna go take a shower. I need to get some stuff done today."

She nodded, told me she'd be around after she went grocery shopping, and left me to it.

As I washed the travel grime from my skin, I contemplated burning the clothes I'd slept in. Obviously they were bad luck.

-PoM-

The rest of the weekend passed slowly. I finished up my article on the band in Salt Lake so I could hand it in on Tuesday, my first day back to work. Writing furiously, I got a lot of my paper done for my journalism class and in the evening, I watched a movie with Rose, who was silently supportive the entire day—not asking for answers and just being the friend I needed most.

And I thought a lot. I made lists and listened to music and tried to figure out if Edward and I were done or just in a fight. I sat in my room and wondered what it was I was doing wrong. I fixed dinner and got mad all over again, decided Emmett was right and that it wasn't my fault Edward had become such an asshole.

Basically I was a whirlwind of emotions, and each one felt like they would knock me on to my knees. I hadn't spoken to Edward since Saturday and was wondering when I would even be ready.

By the time I went to school on Monday morning my stomach felt like it was carrying the weight of the weekend. When classes were over I stopped at the cafeteria underneath the undergrad library, picked up a mocha to warm my insides on my ride home. The day was overcast and chilly, and urged me home to curl up with my studies for the afternoon.

When I turned on to my street I could tell parking was tight, and, not wanting to deal with it, I took the alleyway and parked around the back of our building. Cursing because I had too much to carry today, I got out of my car and juggled my bags, purse, keys, and coffee so I only had to make one trip.

At least it wasn't raining . . . yet.

I turned the corner and pulled up short. There, on the steps of my building, sat Edward with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey.

"Hi," I said, watching him. His face looked tired, resigned almost, and he was sporting more scruff than usual and a green knit cap that covered most of his hair.

I wasn't quite prepared to see him yet, much less having him here at the entrance to my building. My stupid, traitorous body decided it wasn't really that mad at him and buzzed because he was near. My brain, however, knew I was still confused by the events of the weekend. My lips turned down and I moved to the steps, leaning against the railing and keeping a distance.

"Have a seat for a sec?"

"I don't really want to," I said. "Why'd you stop by?"

He looked down at his hands, curling and uncurling the notebook he always carried with him. I noticed some cuts along his knuckles, and wondered what he'd hurt himself on.

"I saw your piece on Tyler today," he said. "I didn't know you were doing that."

In the craziness, it had slipped my mind that it was running in the newest edition of _The Rocket_. "You did?"

"Yeah, it was amazing. You did a really good job." His eyes, sage green today and not bloodshot, met mine. "He would have loved it."

Even though I was still upset at him, my heart swelled from the praise and I had to look away. It was important to me that the people who knew him, the people who loved him, felt like it was worthy.

Tentatively, I set my things down and took a seat on the stoop a careful distance away from him. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

It felt so weird to have this distance between us, both the physical and the mental. Normally, I would have thrown my arms around his neck but the tension was still there, still palpable, and enough to keep us apart.

It seemed like he didn't know what to say either. The silence between us stretched, became uncomfortable, and I began to fidget with my mocha. I wondered if the only reason he had come over was to talk to me about the article, or if he had something else to say.

I hoped he did, at least. I was ready to hear him out; his words would add to the questions floating around in my mind, might make decisions a little easier.

The wind picked up, ripped through my lightweight jacket, and I shivered and opened my mouth to invite him inside and away from the cold.

"Bella, I fucked up."

My mouth fell slack as I looked at him, took in the nervous energy radiating off of his frame. "Before you say anything, I know you're still angry and you have every right to be. If I try to explain everything I have a feeling it'll make it worse, not better. So, I want you to have this," he said, holding the notebook out to me.

I took it, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It felt heavier than I imagined. Perhaps it was the gesture that did.

My fingers ran over the battered cover, tracing the cracks and etched scribbles.

"I want you to read it. There are things that I couldn't say or didn't tell you in there. Everything. Everything I am and I want to be is in there. So, please, just read it."

My eyes began to water and I didn't look up. "Okay," I whispered.

"And when you want to talk, I'll be ready."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him rise, watched his feet covered in battered sneakers move past me and then pause. A tear slipped from my eye when he bent down, lips finding my hair, and then he was gone.

-PoM-

* * *

_Am so glad you guys love this and thank you so much for being here. _

_Song- Down In A Hole – Alice In Chains (The one song that inspired me to write this. LOVE the 'Unplugged' version on You Tube)._


	27. Inch

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Inch

-PoM-

It was . . . weird.

For months—ever since Tyler had told me about the notebook, really—I'd been dying to read it. I could have read them anytime I wanted to if I wanted to be sneaky about it, but I had wanted him to _want _to share them with me because that seemed like it would be more meaningful.

And now that he had, I hesitated. Instead I sat on the couch with his words in my lap and a cup of rapidly cooling tea at my elbow. Daytime had already said its goodbye, dinner had already been cooked, a shower already taken. I knew the power of written words because I lived it daily. In writing down our thoughts we could be as brutally honest as we shied away from being in real life. There were probably things in here I had yearned to hear.

And yet I hesitated.

Maybe it was his warning that there were things in the notebook that he didn't want to tell me. Maybe it was the hurt and anger I still clung to like armor.

Or maybe I was just a giant sissy.

With that thought and a deep breath, I opened the cover and was met with a pen drawing of a skull and the Megadeth logo; remembering his long ago insistence that he was raised on metal made me smile a bit.

Instead of reading it from cover to cover I thumbed through it, pausing here and there. If I was expecting pages and pages of lyrics, I was wrong. There were original lyrics, of course, and the chords were scratched above some of those, but there were also thoughts and drawings as well as some lyrics from other bands, too. I wondered if they were his favorites or just meshed well with whatever mood he'd been in when he jotted them down.

Intrigued now, I flipped back to the beginning and scanned the first couple of pages. It was more journal than the rest: entries filled with the passion and ideals typical of a young guy in college; short passages about girls that frustrated or captivated him for a short time—those I found fascinating. A little bit of indignant metal lyrics thrown in for good measure.

"_There's nothing I hate more than all these plastic people/with all their plastic promises and all their plastic deal/they just can't be themselves and live their own lives out/they're just an imitation of what life's all about . . ."_

It called to mind an old conversation where Edward had told me he dug me because I was different . . . and made me try to figure out where my independence had become such a bone of contention.

Sighing, I flipped past the page and read further. An entry about his grandfather's death made me tear up and I was sad I'd never heard Edward talk about him. Seemed like he'd been a neat guy who was way into music and cracking jokes. Lyrics of his own began to form after that; it was interesting to see the emergence of that talent of his I loved.

Things were pretty straight forward until I landed on a date I was very familiar with: the night we met. Slowing my pace, I read each word, wanting to absorb what was there. The entries were sporadic, more Kerouac than formal, as if he wrote them as they came to him.

_She's so fucking beautiful. My eyes follow her around the room watching her presence brighten everywhere she goes and I want her. Whatever it's going to take, I want to know who she is._

"_I'll sing for you if you want me to/I'll give to you/and it's a chance I'll have to take/and it's a chance I'll have to break . . ."_

Hearing the croon in my head made my heart beat fast. A flip of the page made my breath hitch.

_She's fucking gone. I look for her everywhere, bother Angela every time I see her. She's not from here, though I think I already knew that—nothing that good can possibly be real. _

"_If I should be short on words/and long on things to say/ could you crawl into my world/ and take me worlds away? Should I be besides myself and not even stay?"_

"_My heart is broke/but I have some glue/help me inhale/and mend it with you/ we'll float around/and hang out on clouds/and then we'll come down/and have a hangover . . ."_

The desolation scribbled into being there caused my eyes to sting and I struggled with holding the tears at bay. I'd wondered for so long what he'd thought of the brief time we'd spent together in Phoenix, and his words when I'd asked were nice . . . but nowhere near as raw as this.

It was strange to realize I'd affected him this much.

He moved to Seattle after, hooked up with the guys. Wrote haunting lyrics about a girl who had been lost and never found, and then nothing but a passing moment. I tore through those pages, terrified of a mention of Tanya—but aside from a repeated Anthrax lyric that could fit, there wasn't one.

She was a convenience—an ear to bend when he was too melancholy and shitfaced to realize he was spilling his secrets.

I saw that, now. Didn't like it, but I understood a bit better.

Then there was a steady occurrence of songs and chords, difficult to read because of their resigned, hopeless air. And then the night we met again.

_What are the fucking chances that she walks into my life, here, now, at a time when I had given up her ghost? Those eyes, so wide and trusting then, aren't the same. Scared, now, untrusting. They should be—I want to crawl right back inside her and never leave. _

Then the words were sweeter, things I would never be able to get him to say out loud. The night of Bumbershoot was a one word entry.

_Heaven._

As I read through his version of us I laughed and cried, remembering the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place. He even made notes about my favorite bands and foods. One entry read: _Don't ever eat the last cookie._

Then things began to happen for the band, and I was spellbound reading his chronicling of significant landmarks for the band. I clutched my chest reading how, in every one, he made sure to mark my reaction or make a note to be sure he shared something with me.

And Tyler's words floated back to me. I'd taken them with a grain of salt back then—a muse?—but Edward really had made notes about things we did together, the way it made him feel watching me. There were little pieces of lyrics scribbled everywhere, and it was evident that my opinion of him was important in everything he did.

This was love. It shone through his words, made me feel it just the same.

And that was . . . a lot to take in.

Giving up for a minute, I set the book on the couch and headed to the balcony for some fresh air I would pollute with smoke.

It was a different world outside, one where Edward wasn't talking to me in my head and telling me his secrets. My gaze sought out the notebook constantly as I shivered in the cold, like I thought it would grow legs and run away if I wasn't watching.

I thought his idea might be just shy of brilliant. He could talk to me without breaking his stoicism; could defend himself without my getting angry in front of him. His words from earlier on the steps made sense now—my anger was still very real, too raw and on fire to not be combustible. One inch in the wrong direction would have blown us apart.

And still the hardest parts were yet to come.

I went back inside and made a fresh cup of tea to replace the forgotten one, and settled back in.

_I miss her every day. I want her here. She's the part of this that makes me feel high; the lows are better with her around. _

He didn't know what to do about Tyler. There was a bond between them that surpassed any he shared with the other guys, and while Edward had told me Tyler was fine, he knew that wasn't the truth. But he'd sat back and let it happen, thinking that eventually Ty would snap out of a phase Edward thought would pass.

The parts about him on the road were hard to swallow. He both loved and loathed it, and I could tell when the drinking got to be less than a celebration of a show well done and more of an everyday thing. Reading those alongside the ones about Tyler boggled my mind; he was, in essence, doing the same thing, but didn't recognize it.

"_Well you don't understand who they/thought I was supposed to be/look at me now I'm a man/who won't let himself be . . ." _

He hated the east Coast tour because it took him so far away from his home and me.

_I see her slipping away and I don't know how to bring her back. I wanted this, wanted it all. The fans and the fame, the recognition and the stops in every city. But it's tearing us apart, and if this is all I'll have when she leaves it won't be worth it._

Around the time of Tyler's death there was nothing. Dated pages with ink marks like he'd let the pen sit too long; no words, no lyrics.

There was one last entry, dated yesterday.

"_All five horizons revolved around her soul/as the earth to the sun/now the air I tasted and breathed/has taken a turn . . ."_

Overwhelmed, I closed the cover of the notebook. Acts One and Two had been written, but it was up to us now to determine how Act Three would play out.

My words the other night had been the end of my tether, and I only hoped he'd been at least sober enough to understand my frustrations. There were things not covered in his words that I needed answers to. All of the cards needed to be laid on the table; every expectation, every dream. Hard talks, maybe some tears . . . and compromise.

There was a fight ahead, one I was willing to make.

-PoM-

When Rose came through the door around eleven that night, I was curled up on the couch with the notebook still in my lap. She flopped down next to me, grumbling a hello.

"You look beat, lady."

"I am. Edward called a band meeting tonight."

I cocked my head. "He did?"

"Yep. I wasn't there for the first couple of hours but Emmett had me come down about nine."

"What was it about?"

"Edward wanted everything out on the table: the problems, Ty's death, the direction the band was going to go, how they were going to do it."

Seemed he was trying to make amends all over the place. Interesting. "I bet that was intense."

She huffed. "You can say that again. Jasper's been pissed at him so apparently he was resistant to Edward stepping up at first. I caught the tail end of that fight. Edward was damn determined to move forward as a unit, including Leah, and Jasper eventually bought in. Dude's first love and only love is music. I guess Edward pulling his head out of his ass made Jasper feel like the band could continue on."

"What brought all this on?" I asked . . . hoping I already knew the answer.

"Do you really need to ask that? I don't know what you said to him . . . because you still haven't told me; which, by the way, I'm waiting on. Anyway, it must have been good enough to wake him up. Or the potential that you'd dump him if he didn't get his shit together."

I didn't like that it'd taken me losing it on him to get him out of his funk, but was also glad it apparently did.

"Huh. And where did you come in on this?"

"You're looking at the new manager," she said, waving her hand. "When they asked me, I threw my demands right out there and they didn't even hesitate."

I screeched. "That's fantastic. Congrats, Rose! Does this mean I won't have to take on another job to help you pay rent?"

"You're such a smartass. But, yeah, it does. Seems momma's getting paid, now. Your boy was adamant about the original members building a solid foundation with trust and retaining it. And I'm sure he was including you in that statement."

That gave me pause. "What's that mean?"

"He pretty much told them that if he had any chance in hell that you would forgive him, you were going to be a top priority. I don't know exactly what he meant by that, or how you two are going to work that one out, but that's up to y'all. Everyone seemed to be on board, though, so . . ."

I played with my fingers. "So, you're saying Jasper was okay with that? Because, gotta say, I just don't see him agreeing to anything to do with me."

"Jasper's a jerk, but he's not always a douche. He's weird around new people. He only started being nicer to me recently, too. Somewhere along the way he either got used to us being around or he started to like us, I don't know. But I do know he reamed Edward over the way he treated you."

"Really? I'm kind of shocked."

"You're singing my song now, chick. It's weird. We're like this big, dysfunctional family. We fight and get mad, but we all try to get through the tough times together. Sometimes some of us are bigger assholes than others, but a kidney shot usually takes care of that."

I smiled, thinking that it sounded a lot like Tyler was behind all of this.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Eh, just thought Ty was doing some spiritual hocus pocus to push us all back together."

"Me too. This has got him written all over it."

-PoM-

* * *

_Once again, thank you so much. xo_

_The lyrics taken from actual songs are in quotations and italics and are listed in order from each song I used:_

_Imitation of Life – Anthrax  
Luna – Smashing Pumpkins  
Seasons – Chris Cornell  
Dumb – Nirvana  
Down In a Hole – Alice In Chains  
Black – Pearl Jam_

_Thank you Nic, xo_


	28. Scald

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt:** Scald

**Plot Generator – Binding Blurb:** everything going wrong at once.

-PoM-

Edward's gesture of giving me his journal cleared up some things, but there were still parts of our disagreement weighing heavy on my mind. I felt like if we were going to try and repair this we should talk face-to-face. Giving me his words the way he'd done wasn't a magic fix.

It felt strange to still be holding on to my mad. Edward and I had been able to squash most of our differences of opinion over the course of our relationship pretty quickly in the past. The fact that I was still this upset let me know that it was something that was probably important, and that I needed to take my time in coming to whatever conclusion I did. But the anger sat in my stomach like a weight, and I didn't like feeling that way—we did need to talk, and it needed to be soon.

I felt like I understood him a little better and that was great, but the road he'd been heading down was a scary one. We'd all witnessed firsthand how bad things could get if left unchecked.

Rose had thrown herself back into the grind of band life this week, only popping in every once in a while to grab a change of clothes or to let me know how things were going. From her words, I gathered that it was going better—there were some issues they all needed to work on as a group, but practices had at least gotten underway and Leah was really killing it.

That made me ecstatic—Ty wasn't someone who could ever, ever be _replaced, _but I thought Leah might bring something new to the table that would hopefully reenergize them.

Friday was a short day of classes for me so I headed to the paper after I was finished, ready to lose my head in something else besides the thoughts that had been plaguing me for days.

Marcus was at the copy machine across from my desk when I arrived. I sighed and tossed my bags in a drawer, stared at the pile of proofing left for me.

"Why the long face? It's not _that_ much work to get through."

I spoke without looking up. "Shockingly, I don't care about your leftovers today. I've got some stuff on my mind that has nothing to do with work."

He made a sound. "Figured. Guy problems? Told ya it was only a matter of time, kid."

That got my attention. Looking at him now with a stare that I wished would singe his eyebrows off, I said, "That's not really your business. And you don't have to be so smug."

He held up his hands. "Sorry, didn't mean to pry."

There was something about his words that finally settled in: he actually didn't seem smug—he seemed genuinely _nice, _maybe even worried_. _

Realizing that I was overreacting, I slumped in my chair, rested my head in my hands. "No, it's okay. I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. Didn't mean to snap at you."

He parked his rather rotund butt on the edge of my desk. "So, your thing with the singer didn't work out?"

I pulled my hands away from my face. "I . . . don't know, actually. We're not having the best time of making it work, lately."

My eyes welled up and I looked down, not wanting to show weakness.

"Look, we don't always get along. We're coworkers, not friends, but I get it, Bella. Loving someone with a different lifestyle than yours isn't easy. But let me give you a word of advice from someone who fucked up and knows it: if you think there's any hope at all, fight tooth and nail for it. I didn't, and I regret it."

"Not to put my nose in where I shouldn't, but isn't the situation between you and Heidi . . . kind of contentious?"

"Unfortunately, yes, and it only got that way because we let it go too far. There are some hurts you just can't undo."

"Thanks, Marcus," I said. "Some words of wisdom there for me to think about."

He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, well . . . don't think about them while you're finishing up the proofs. I need them on my desk before you leave."

And with that he walked away, and I was left shaking my head in amazement. Our talk felt like I'd been on a seesaw, swinging from low to high to low again. Who knew, maybe he reached his empathy quota of the day. However, his words stayed with me throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Because . . . I was holding on to my anger like a shield of armor. My concerns weren't invalid, my anger wasn't exactly misplaced, but if I meant what I'd said about working through it, holding the talk between me and Edward at bay until I deemed it time was just me hiding. Forgiveness should come from a place of strength and not weakness, and it was time to start that process.

I picked up the phone before I left and dialed the number.

"_Turn it down! _Hello?"

His voice, soft over the sound of a blaring television, made me ache.

"Hey, it's me. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

He didn't say anything, and then there was the sound of a door closing. "I can be. Did you . . . what'd you have in mind?"

"Can you meet me at Gasworks tomorrow?" I hesitated a little. "So we can talk?"

"What time?"

"Is three okay? You don't have practice or anything, do you?"

"No, that's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

-PoM-

Arriving early, I hung out in the parking lot of the park. The sky was gorgeous in spite of the crisp autumn day, blue and nearly cloudless; boats meandered around Union Bay in the distance.

He arrived not long after I did, silver Nova pulling into the parking lot next to my car. He got out of his car and came around to my door, a couple of coffees in his hand.

I grabbed my jacket and slung it over my arm, opened my door. "Hi."

"Hey." He handed me one of the cups. "Be careful with this, I had them make it extra hot. It's fucking freezing out here."

I took the cup, noticed that he was wearing a thick flannel shirt over another heavy shirt. "Oh, it's not that bad. I just thought it'd be quiet here . . ."

The scalding coffee inside warmed my hands and I held onto it for a minute, trying to gather up my moxie, and studied his profile.

His face was cautious, but determined somehow, too. I could understand why he was uncertain about our meeting—I had done little to make him feel otherwise.

"If you say so. At least it's not raining."

I snorted. "There's kids here playing. I know you grew up in Phoenix, but this is not cold by my standards." I looked up, smiled a little. "It's not a bad view, though, right? One of my favorite places in the city."

"I've seen better," he said, glancing my way. "So, where to?"

I passed my coffee back and forth between my hands and shrugged on my jacket. He looked like he wanted to offer to hold it, but he didn't ask. I pointed to a spot halfway down the lawn. "How about down there?"

The silence as we walked the few hundred yards was the tensest I'd ever had around him. I spotted an empty bench and headed for it. There were more people down here than I'd expected; some bundled up against the cold and out for a walk with their dogs; some jogging past on the path nearby; groups of families spread out and enjoying a nice day.

"So," he said when he was seated beside me. "What's the reason behind this clandestine outing?"

He'd put the ball in my court by giving me the journal; it was only fair I tell him what was on my mind.

"I . . . I don't even know where to start. The last week has been confusing and weird, and I've had trouble sorting things out in my head. There are all kinds of questions and uncertainties I'm not sure how to deal with."

He took a sip of his coffee—and it was easy to see how tense his hands were around the paper cup. "I know, Bella. I shouldn't have acted like that, not to you. You don't know how fucking sorry I am for putting you through that."

"Can we hold off on that part for a minute? I need to thank you for giving me your journal. I've always known that you don't . . . um, express yourself like I do. Maybe it's the whole male versus female thing and I'm just naturally inclined to be all 'feely', but you offering your thoughts to me willingly meant a lot."

"You read it, then?"

I placed my hand on his arm for a second so he would see that I was grateful he'd made the gesture.

"I did. It was overwhelming, actually." At his look of consternation, I rushed to explain myself. "Not in a bad way. It gave me some insight on things you hadn't told me, things I didn't notice."

I pulled my hand back and wrapped it around my coffee, gaze wandering to the water. I watched a boat with brightly colored sails bobbing on the water while I put my thoughts in order.

"There were some parts of it that really bothered me, though. Even after everything I'd done to show you that I was in this, you didn't really trust that I wasn't just going to leave. When things got bad you began to doubt I would stay, and that makes no sense. Because I tried my hardest to show you I wasn't going anywhere."

From the corner of my eye I saw him lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I was convinced that because everything was so up in the air, you would be too. Like it was my luck to have shit go bad. And it didn't help when you refused to move in with me."

I turned to look at him. He'd stopped asking that a long time ago, even after I'd decided I was ready and was waiting for him to ask. He also hadn't talked about it in his journal, so I'd had no idea it bothered him so much.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I didn't want to live alone—that wasn't some excuse on my part to not move forward with you. There was so much upheaval going on when we talked about it: you were on the road, then there was the album and more touring. And, for what it's worth, I decided not long after your first tour that if you would ask again I was going to say yes. The subject just seemed to drop, though."

"You could have told me that."

I took another drink of coffee. "When I was younger my mom met this guy. He was a little older than her, had some money. You've never met her, but my mom is this . . . she's spontaneous and she doesn't always think with her head. She thrives on being in love, but she could never find it. So, anyway, she meets this guy who seems kind of stable, right? He has this great big two-level house in one of the nicer parts of where we lived, good job, cool cars."

I shuddered and he scooted closer, offering me some warmth.

"My mom decides that he's what she's been looking for. She pretty much barreled her way into his life, into his home, into a ring and a new last name. I don't know why, exactly, but she decided that she needed to model herself after the mom from the Brady Bunch to make him happy. And it didn't end well—six months later they were divorcing and she was back to looking for Mr. Right. And she kept repeating the same pattern."

"But that's not us."

"I know that. It's just something I've always been conscious of: how inserting yourself into someone's life doesn't always work. It made me timid about moving in together at first, and I freely acknowledge that, but eventually I got there. I hoped you would be the one to bring up the subject again because it felt like it meant more if you were the one to ask."

And now we'd come to the harder part. I took a deep breath and slouched into my jacket.

"It wasn't. But then things changed, too, and I wasn't sure I wanted to bring it up. Your drinking got heavier and that scares me. I don't know who you are when you get like that."

"I can see where you're coming from, I can, but you gotta understand—everything just went to hell at once." He pulled a smoke from his pocket. "Being on the road night after night, trying to prove yourself to an audience . . . It's hard work. There were a couple of times we had to even pay to get on the bill. It's grueling and I don't always know how to handle the stress."

He sat back and stared out over the water and I tried to absorb his words. We've had a few crossed lines, that was for sure, and it made me sad to know we both hadn't been as honest as we'd needed to be. Which was why we were in the situation we were in now.

"That's why it made it so much better when you were there." His voice was softer now, sweeter. "Your face just lights up when you're watching us, watching me. It's the best feeling I ever have on stage. I don't need to drink as much when you're there."

"But that's a problem. You shouldn't _need_ to drink, period. I get that what you're doing isn't the easiest life, but it's taking you down a road that only ends in destruction . . . or death. If anything, losing Tyler should have shown you that. And you're not always nice when you drink, Edward—and that's something I won't put up with."

He drained his coffee and crumpled the cup. "Tyler. God, that kid . . . That broke me. I didn't do enough to stop him. He was an addict, and I knew it, and I sat back and let him get in his own way—I kept telling everyone it couldn't possibly get as bad as it did because he was this crazy little fucker who was so fucking cool and he had all these things he wanted to do with his music. I asked him once why he did it, why he couldn't stop, and he said it took him to a place that no one could touch. "

"But why did you push me away? Especially when he died. I wanted to be here for you. _I_ needed to grieve, too."

"I was in this fucked up headspace where I was sure things in my life were so out of control that you wouldn't want to be a part of it anymore. And I didn't want that. At all. And then you found your job and you're so fucking good at it, and maybe I didn't say it enough, but I _was _proud of you. And I realized how much you didn't need my shit in your life, and that sucked."

That was just . . . stupid. Annoyance coursed through my veins. "How could you think that I wouldn't need you? Work and school is what I do, and it usually makes me happy, but in no way does that replace you in my life. The band is what you do and I completely understood that when we decided to be together. I made compromises and changed things so I could be where you were. If anyone supported you, I did; I can't always drop things on a dime, and I'm sorry for that, but I have to make something of myself, too."

"I don't know. Maybe in my own fucked up way, I was testing you. To see if you'd really stay or not."

If anything, I could kind of see where the 'running away' comment had come from the other night. It wasn't an excuse for him to be so freaking mean, though.

"That kind of pisses me off, actually. I shouldn't have to prove myself to you—I've never asked that of you so why do that to me? You can't treat me like a test subject and expect me to take it lying down. And you can't not talk to me when something is bothering you."

He didn't say anything, so I continued.

"We might not always see eye-to-eye on issues, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about shit that's bothering us. It's how we ended up here today. It was a shot to the chest to hear you telling Tanya about what was bothering you when you'd shut me out time and time again."

"In my defense, I just needed to talk to someone. and then I got drunk. Guess my shitty problems had to come out eventually, and she happened to be the one I unloaded on."

"It still hurt."

"I know. I made mistakes, Bella. I didn't handle things the right way, and I know that. I don't know what you want to do, and I wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to walk away, but I don't want that."

I closed my eyes against the raw pain I heard in his voice. "I am here, now, because I believe we are worth something together."

"You mean I still have a chance?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him, scooted in until our sides were touching. Tried not to let the tiny, hopeful smile on his face make me cry.

I reached up and ran my thumb over his cheek and he leaned his face into my palm. "We have a lot to work out yet. I'm willing to fight for this, for us, but you have to be willing to do the same, and really mean it. I can't do it alone."

"You said that the other night."

"And here I thought you were too bombed to remember any of it."

"Oh, I definitely heard what you were saying." He grimaced. "The words are burned into my brain. I thought I'd lost you for good."

His eyes were so green in the clear afternoon light.

"Not gonna happen, Cullen."

"I love you more than anything," he said, maneuvering us until I was under tucked into his side and his arm was around my shoulder. He ducked his head down, brushed his lips along my hair.

My eyes sought out the water again, calm and peaceful because the wind had died down. I smiled and said, "I know."

-PoM-

* * *

_Stargazer – Mother Love Bone_

_I have all of the music on a Spotify Playlist: 'Part of Me' under my FB Luckyirishtart Fanfiction_

_TY my musical partner in crime. You are awesome._


	29. Police

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompt**: Police

**Dialogue Flex**: "What's your excuse this time?"

-PoM-

"Hey, have you seen my shirt?"

Growling under my breath, I looked up from my notes spread all over the coffee table and rubbed my forehead. Edward had a bad habit of screaming from the back of his apartment, and that fact piled on top of a deadline I was hard pressed to meet equaled me and a huge headache.

It wasn't like he wasn't ten steps away as it was. I stretched my legs from their crisscrossed position and stretched them under the table.

"Bella, did you hear—oh. Hey, have you seen my shirt?"

I turned my head toward the hallway. "Well, you have lots of shirts. Are there any identifying characteristics of this one to give me a clue?"

"Someone's crabby."

"I'm really not. But I am trying to get this article done so I can hand it in . . . and I've pretty much got nothing written. So, what shirt are you looking for so I can get this done?"

He and the rest of the band were going to a local show tonight to scout out a few potential opening acts for their upcoming mini-tour—it was set to start in less than a month. News of Ty's death had spread throughout the music world and had set their album sales to overdrive. The record company, thrilled with the sales—greedy, insensitive scumsuckers they were—had booked them on a fifteen-show tour up the West Coast again, and after that finished they'd have a break before going on a longer tour through the Midwest.

It was daunting to know we'd be separated again so soon, but the past two weeks had been good for us. We were talking about stuff and getting along, and Edward had been much more accepting of the times I simply couldn't hang out. This quarter of school was just really getting underway and I'd decided to stick it out as well as keep my part time job at the paper. So we each did our own thing and spent a lot of nights at his place when I could swing it.

"The blue one." At my thinned lips, he said, "The one you hate. It has a hole in the bottom, remember?"

"Oh, that one." I grimaced—why he insisted on wearing clothes that were falling apart, I had no clue. "It's in the bottom of your closet. I put a basket of clean laundry in there earlier this week."

"Yeah, I didn't look there."

Of course he didn't. I loved him to death, but I swore that sometimes he was selectively blind. And a slob. His habit of dropping clothes wherever he took them off and leaving them had gotten so out of hand I'd used my key to clean up when one of my classes had been canceled earlier this week.

He walked in my direction and flopped on the couch behind me, settling his chin on my shoulder. "What's wrong with your article?"

His breath on my neck was distracting. "Um . . . well, they want me to review that band that I saw last week with Rose, but we got bored and left early instead."

"My, my, Swan. That's not very good form for a journalist."

I shivered when his tongue traced a line behind my ear. "Stop trying to lick my neck! I don't have time for you to be cute. Don't you have an outing to get dressed for? And, besides, I couldn't help it. They were weird."

"So write about that," he said.

"I'm trying to, but I can't get my thoughts together."

He moved until he was sitting beside me and started digging around the mess of papers on the table. "Here, this one says they sound like a cross between Nirvana and . . . Jesus, Bon Jovi, Bella? What the fuck kind of band did they send you to see?"

"That's what I'm saying," I said, laughing. "It was like Glam meets Grunge rock. They had on makeup and cowboy boots, for fucks sake. Even Marcus didn't want to go to the show, which is how I got stuck with it. How am I supposed to take this seriously?"

He agreed and then started reading my notes, pointing out things I'd scribbled down. His observations were funny and my bad mood started to lift pretty fast, a tentative outline taking form in my brain. We were interrupted by a pounding on the door, and Edward got up to see who it was.

"Oh, come on. Cover up before you open the door," Emmett said, pulling an annoyed Rose into the apartment behind him. "I get that you want to bone our dear Bella all the time, but I've got sensitive eyes here."

"No one was boning," I muttered. "Unfortunately."

"You ready to go?" Rose said to Edward, perching on the couch next to me. "Hey, chick. Looks like you're in for a fun night."

"No. Definitely not fun."

"Can you guys just go without me?"

Surprised, I looked up from the table and to where Edward still stood—shirtless—in the door.

"What do you mean? We've gotta go see those bands," Emmett said. "The label wants us to pick someone this week."

"I trust you guys' judgment," Edward replied. "I'm going to stay here and hang out with Bella."

Rose whispered in my ear, "Guess we got outranked on the priority list tonight." She stood up, grabbed Emmett, and then said, "You can't say shit when you don't like the band, I'm warning you now."

When they'd gone and the apartment was silent again, I stared at Edward. "You didn't have to do that. It's important for you to go tonight."

"I know I didn't have to, but you seem like you could use a hand. Here, you can tell me your ideas and I'll tell you if they suck."

"Well, if that doesn't sound like a vote of confidence . . ."

I couldn't hold the annoyed tone for very long, though—I ended up giggling and ruining it completely. My insides danced because he'd blown off something to do with the band for me.

"You'll do fine, baby. You have my very knowledgeable self for the entire evening. And, hey, maybe you'll lose your shirt later, too.

-PoM-

"You have plans tomorrow night?"

I turned away from the movie we were watching. "Not that I know of. My assignment at the paper isn't due for another couple of days and I finished my school stuff this afternoon. What's up?"

He picked up his soda and drained it.

Another step in the right direction: Edward hadn't had a drink since out talk in the park, had even attended a few of the local, open AA meetings—which he said were depressing and hard to get through because some of the member's tales were nightmare inducing stuff. He'd confided to me that he was glad he wasn't that far gone, that it was hard but he was going to try.

I trusted him . . . and if I began to doubt it, we'd cross that road together.

"We've got our last rehearsal before we leave, and I want you to come."

"Really?"

"You can see how Leah's doing; hear some of the new stuff we've been working on. She'd be psyched to have you there."

"That sounds like fun. When do you have practice?"

"Five. It's at Jasper's new place.

"You've got yourself a groupie," I said, leaning in to taste his lips.

-PoM-

Early record sales had been fantastic and much more profitable than we'd imagined they'd be. Each of the band members splurged on something: new guitars for Ben, a ridiculous jeep for Emmett; Leah, who because she'd come in later and didn't have any cuts on the album, laughed at them. Edward hadn't done much beside buying a new television and threatening to pay for my tuition.

Jasper, though, had just purchased a house in the south part of Seattle.

Apparently it was nice, and Edward said I'd think so, too.

He picked me up early the next day and we headed for Burien. The neighborhoods got more spread out the closer we got, until we were in an area of mostly middle class homes with nice lawns.

"It's so much brighter out here than it is in the city," I said, watching the as the lawns morphed into views of Vashon Island. "I didn't know about this area—wow, it's gorgeous."

"One of the selling points for Jas was that it's apparently 'one of the best kept secrets' around," he said, making a face. "Not a lot of traffic, and I think the residents like to keep it that way."

"I can see why . . ."

After a few twists and turns through gorgeous greenbelts, we ended up at a house that was fairly secluded from the rest. I wanted to giggle at the high gate—open, at least—because, really . . . but knowing Jasper and his view of their impending fame, it made sense.

Edward parked at the end of a long driveway and got out to retrieve his guitars from the back.

"This is pretty cool," I said, taking in the sweeping green lawn that sloped away from the large single-story house.

It was nice. Not exorbitant by any means, but it was a lot of space for one guy and was either a new build or had had a very recent facelift. Rudely I wondered how much money Jasper had dropped on this place.

"Wait until you see the inside."

Instead of entering the front of the house, we went around to the back and approached a garage separated from the main house. Muffled music from a guitar spilled into the air.

"Honey, I'm home," Edward said, holding the door so I could enter first.

The garage had been converted into a small studio with just enough room for the band to play without killing each other. There was a small booth off to the side, and I recalled Edward telling me that Jasper wanted to record here eventually.

He'd been kind of amped about that himself—it was a new avenue of music not yet explored.

I set my bag down on a counter near the door. "Hey, Jasper."

Since the blowup in Portland, I hadn't seen him around. He gave me the tiniest smile and looked back to his guitar, watching as his fingers picked out a tune I didn't recognize.

Edward touched me on the small of my back. "I need to grab the rest of my stuff."

"Need help?"

"Nah, I'll be back." He seemed jazzed about playing, eyes all sparkly and mischievous. He squeezed my waist and then he was walking outside.

I turned back around to Jasper. "Nice place. Studio's pretty cool."

He finished playing whatever it was he was playing and then sat his guitar to the side. "Yeah, the guy here before had his own band. Neighbors aren't really cool with noise and he soundproofed it so they could do their thing. Wanna see the rest of the place?"

"If you have enough time before practice, that'd be great."

"We've got time. Ben's already called because he's going to be late."

And there was the Jasper I knew—annoyance crossed his features and I laughed silently.

I followed him out of the studio and to the patio—complete with a large grill and a seating area—and we entered the house through the kitchen. I stopped shot at the door and stared at the woman preparing food there.

What the . . .

"Bella and Edward are here already. Bella, meet Alice."

She finished chopping a tomato, scooped it into a bowl. For that matter, there were a ton of bowls dotting the center island—tomatoes and jalapeños, lettuce and tortillas. The scent of spiced meat hung heavy in the room.

I stared at this new face, totally shocked to see her moving around as it were her house, too.

She wiped a hand on her apron before she shook mine. "Hi, Bella. I've heard so much about you."

Her voice was soft, sweetly accented with a twang that suited her smile, somehow. She was pretty, all dainty and bright colors.

"You have?"

She laughed. "I have, but I can tell you haven't heard about me yet." She gave Jasper a frown that didn't last long. "He's so goshdarned quiet." Jasper ruffled the hair at the back of his neck. "All right, then. I'm gonna give her a tour and then we're heading back out. Need help with anything?"

"No. I've got it."

He ducked down, bussing her cheek, and then gestured for me to follow him. I shot one last look at the girl—Alice, I reminded myself—and then shook my head and followed him in a daze.

That girl was _not _a new addition; which made me wonder why Edward or Rose hadn't said anything about her to me.

"What the hell, Jasper. You don't go springing your girlfriend on your friends like that," I said. "She probably thinks I'm rude."

"Trust me, that didn't bother her one bit."

"If you say so. But . . . I mean, where'd she come from?"

"I met her in L.A. and we kept in touch. She worked for the label."

I laughed, and then looked around the office we'd stopped in. "That's kind of . . . sweet. Is she just down for the weekend?"

"I said 'worked', meaning she's not working there any longer. She moved in this week."

"Oh . . . kay. Uh, nice house, by the way, I'm impressed. I didn't think you guys were making this much yet." I waved my hand around the room.

Because, if Jasper had this much cash, Edward could certainly buy his way out of the lease on his less-than-ideal apartment. It made me wonder why he hadn't mentioned cohabitating again, or if he was still waiting on me.

"We're not. I've been saving my portion of gigs for a long time, didn't use a lot of my advance. I'm mortgaged up to my eyeballs, but I figured it was time to put down roots and stop crashing on people's couches."

"Gotcha. Okay, homeowner, show me the rest of your house."

He took me through the bedrooms—of which there were four—and the bathrooms—one and a half—and the den, which had a massive television and stereo setup.

"Yeah, so this is awesome," I said, gravitating toward the old vinyl he had stacked on shelves. "I hope you know you've become the official barbecue spot."

"I actually wanted to talk to you for a few minutes alone."

"What about?" I ran my hands over the records, stopped at an Eagles album and reminded myself to call my mother soon.

Then I remembered the look that passed him and Edward when my fella had gone back to his car. This smelled like a set up.

"I owe you a major fuckin' apology."

Mouth agape, I turned to face him. "What?"

"I wasn't the nicest person to you when we first met. I had this idea that you were just another one of those girls that wanted to be with a guy in a band. A distraction."

That . . . actually made a lot of sense.

"After watching you two for a while, I started to get it. Being in a band isn't easy, and if you find someone that you can build a life with through all of this mayhem, they must be pretty special."

Still flabbergasted, I stood there and said nothing; he just smiled and turned to fiddle with something on a table.

The words were nice, though, and I should say something. "That's really nice of—"

"Get out of that or so help me God, I will light a fire under your butt!"

"Damnit," Jasper said, taking off toward the noise.

I stood there and giggled for a second. Alice's southern certainly came out when she was yelling. Once I'd composed myself I headed back toward the kitchen, where everyone had converged. Leah, beer bottle raised to her lips, stood next to Rose; Ben, obviously just arriving if his gear in hand was anything to go by, stood in the doorway. Edward was leaned against the counter, Pepsi in hand a smirk on his face.

Emmett and Alice were squared off over the counter, where she'd draped her tiny little self over all the bowls of food, save for the one Emmett held.

I navigated the minefield and moved toward Edward, tucking myself into his side. His arm went around my shoulder and I leaned up on my tiptoes, whispered, "Sneaky people don't get laid. Just so you know."

"That's not fair," he said, and then turned back to watch Emmett trying to steal another bowl off the table.

"It's not time to eat yet," Alice said, slapping his hand away from a bowl of guacamole. "Go do your practice 'thang' and then I'll feed you."

"But I'm starving! Rose is too busy to cook for me."

Not missing a beat, Rose snorted. "There's food at home and you have two hands. What's your excuse this time?"

I grinned to myself, recalling a certain note about my penchant to hoard cookies. "A member of the food police, I like her already."

"She's something else. Jasper didn't know what hit him."

"Uh huh. Which reminds me of that whole 'talking to me' thing, and how I did not know about the girlfriend? You're definitely not getting laid tonight."

I guessed I couldn't expect complete miracles in less than two months time. But we had time to work on that.

"We'll see."

When Emmett had enough of being denied sustenance the gathering broke up, and Alice winked at me as I followed Edward out of the room. I had a feeling I was going to like her.

The studio was a lot nicer than the one in The Dutchman, and we hung out for hours, Rose and I curled up on the couch, while the band rehearsed songs both old and new. The new stuff was wonderful, moving, and I heard bits about Ty and myself that made my eyes well up. Eventually they were done and horsing around, Edward and Jasper moving over to the sound board while Emmett, Leah, and Ben played nonsense riffs.

I watched Edward, took in his keen interest in what buttons to push to raise or drop a level on someone's mic. He messed up a few times, but I could tell it was something he wanted to know more about.

Leah got tired of playing and came over to flop down next to Rose and me. "You sound amazing, girl. I did not know you had that in you."

"Thanks. It's a lot easier than it was in the beginning. Jasper and your boyfriend can be damn tyrants, but it's pushed me to get it together. I'm having a blast."

"Yeah, he gets pretty intense when he wants to work on something."

-PoM-

After a loud dinner during which everyone seemed like cats let out of a cage, and more southernisms than I knew what to do with, Edward drove us home with me curled up next to him. I yawned, thankful that there wasn't a center console in the Nova.

I murmured in a sleepy voice, "Want to come over? Rose won't be there."

"It'd be easier if we just had one place to go to, you know."

I smiled softly. I'd been waiting for this subject to come up again.

We were back in a good place, one of normalcy and understanding. It might have been better than it was in the beginning, really. After weeks of careful nurturing, I knew I was ready.

"Sure would be." I tucked into him a little closer. "Do you want to go look before you leave?"

"Am I hearing what I think I am hearing?"

"Yes, you are." I looked up, found a wide grin that mirrored my own.

"Let's go tomorrow."

-PoM-

* * *

Sooooo planning on one more chapter and an epi... how did this fly by so fast?

Song – I Saw You in the Crowd – Violent Femmes


	30. Pillow

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their__express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Word Prompts**: Pillow

-PoM-

Something caressed the small of my back, feather-light but warm, and I surfaced gradually from a deep slumber into dull, grey light. Rain slashed at the windows, a steady drumbeat of sound that made me want to curl back into my pillow.

But the hands caressing me awake didn't pause; they moved up my side and around to my breasts, slipped around my ribcage and tugged me gently until I was on my back.

"Am I dreaming?" I mumbled, closing my eyes again and moving closer to his warmth.

"Mmm, Hope not."

Lips grazed my shoulder, across my collar bone and up my neck.

"Oh, that's nice."

"Open those eyes, beautiful girl."

I did, squinting until his face came into focus above mine. "Morning. Sleep well?"

"I always do when you're next to me." He dipped down, raining kisses onto the skin of my neck.

"Such a charmer when you want to be," I said, and then gave up on going back to sleep.

I moved my hands to his neck and pulled his lips back to mine, loving the way he moved until he was cradled between my thighs. The shirt of his I'd slept in was discarded after a few minutes, and then we were skin on skin.

Sex with Edward was always good—sometimes fast and powerful, sometimes teasing and fun—but morning sex was my favorite. He was sweet when he woke up, more apt to spend time building me up with lips and tongue and fingers, and I inevitably felt closer to him than at any other time.

His lips stayed on mine, fingers dancing below to tempt me. I groaned and tipped my head back, closing my eyes at the onslaught of emotions that mixed so perfectly to the way he made me feel physically.

"You look so good in my bed," he said close to my ear. "I'm going to think about how you look right now every night while I'm gone."

His words added fuel to the fire-lit nerves; made the momentary thought that I wasn't ready for him to go yet hurt for the smallest second. But then his fingers curled in just the right way and I was lost to thoughts beside that I wanted him right now.

I wrapped my leg around his back, scooting down until we were lined up and he slid over me.

"I need you," I said, wrapping my hand around him and guiding him inside.

And then all was perfect and his hands were in my hair, open lips panting hot little breaths against my cheek, scruffy jaw scratching the skin there on each thrust of his body into mine. My hand clutched at his pectoral muscle, felt the unsteady racing of his pulse against my palm.

He wrapped his hand around my wrist, keeping it there.

His heartbeat was my heartbeat. His breaths fed mine, filled my lungs with something that had no proper words until I passed it back to him so he could feel how perfect we were, too.

Languorous passes brought him ever closer to me until my hand lay crushed between us, until there was only a slow grind of bodies and hips, until I whispered my love and fell apart. When he came it was with his head buried in my hair, words indecipherable because they were spaced unevenly and muffled. I wrapped my arms around his back when he shifted to move away, wanting his weight for just a while longer.

He had to go, and I knew that. Most times I was even okay with it because I knew he would come back to me always, but this morning I didn't want to let go just yet.

"I'm going to miss this."

I hummed, kissed his sweat-slicked chest. "Me too. I'm so used to you being there when I wake up . . . it's different this time."

"Yeah, but it'll be over before we know it." He wrapped his fingers around my hands, pulling them off and sitting back. He stared at me, smiled. "Look at you, so pretty in our bed. See, I told you this would be perfect."

"Yeah, yeah." I made no attempt to cover up. "You're such a sap in the morning."

He ran his hands over my bent knees. "Something about you brings it out in me."

"Mmhmm. I think you just want me to make you pancakes now."

"Well, there's always that." He sighed, bent down to kiss my cheek, and then swung his leg over the bed, walking to the dresser to grab a pair of pajama pants. "Much as I hate to say it, you need to get out of bed. Lots of stuff to do today."

I sat up, pulling the fluffy comforter around me. Now that he wasn't near, I was cold in this drafty old house.

It was a great house, though—lots of woodwork and big windows and in a location similar to Jasper's. It felt normal, easy, and safe—something I'd need when he was gone on the road. We'd been here for barely two weeks, lucking out on a shortlisted sale because the previous owner had died and her family wanted to sell it fast. It was just enough time for us to play house before he was set to go on the road again, buy a couple of things to make it feel more homey.

"What time do you have to leave?"

"Got all day. Jasper and Rose are taking care of everything for tonight, so all I have left to do is pack. I figured I'd spend the day with you. Fix that cabinet that doesn't close, and you know, get you off a few more times."

"For that you get pancakes _and _ bacon."

-PoM-

"Where are you guys at tonight?"

I tucked the phone under my ear and headed to the kitchen. There was a stack of dishes that I'd been neglecting in order to write a paper this week. Edward called nightly, after every show or when they had a break, and we usually talked until one of us fell asleep.

I wasn't kidding myself in thinking the separations would always be this easy, but it gave me hope that they wouldn't be near as bad as before.

"San Jose," he said. "It was a good show, but the audience wasn't that big."

"Eh, you can't win everyone. When do you leave?"

"We've got two days before we need to be at the next gig, so we're staying here tomorrow. I'm glad, though because I need some fucking sleep."

"Yeah, I thought you sounded wiped. Oh, hey, I painted the kitchen earlier."

There was the sound of a lighter, his slow inhale and exhale. "Really? What color? It's not something ridiculous and girly is it?"

I scoffed. "No. It's a sage green color." Picked out because it reminded me of his eyes . . .

"Okay, I'm a guy. I don't know all those fancy names for colors. What scale of light to dark does that fall under?"

I rolled my eyes and turned the faucet on, waiting for it to warm up. The water took forever to warm up in our house. "It's a lightish color. Sort of dusty."

"There you go losing me again. But I'm sure it looks nice, baby."

"It does," I laughed. "Goes well with the cabinets."

"I'll have to trust your judgment on that."

"How are things going? Besides the being tired and small crowd tonight, I mean?"

"Well, I'm still sober. And we had a meeting earlier."

"What about?" My hands went through the motions of washing crusted over plates, and for once I was glad he wasn't here right now to tease me about that. Not when I got on his case so often for slovenly housekeeping.

"We're going to do a show when we get back home," he said. "This is our first time out without . . . Ty, and it's taking some getting used to. Ben threw the idea of a free show out there, sort of like a tribute-slash-homecoming show to wrap the tour up. Like a memorial but not so depressing."

My eyes watered and I sat down the plate I was washing to wipe them. "Oh, that sounds perfect. He'd get a kick out of that."

"Probably. Little fucker loved a free show."

-PoM-

Over the next couple weeks, plans were set and then changed for the show in Seattle. It started off as something small at a club they used to play, but once word got out it grew. Other bands, some Ty had jammed with, some who'd just known of him, wanted to be a part of the bill and it quickly morphed into a full-fledged concert. Thank god for Rose, who could organize a hurricane if she had to—she oversaw the details from the road, making new plans every time something changed. I'd offered my help because I was in town when she wasn't, but besides running copies of flyers, she didn't need much from me.

The free show idea was dropped, sadly, but Rose and the rest of the band were able to talk everyone in to a low cover charge with proceeds going toward local homeless programs for kids and teens. Ty had it rough growing up—his mother, nice as she was, hadn't always been stable and his father was long gone—and had been on his own several times as a teen, so it only seemed fitting.

The venue was moved to the Moore Theater, and news of the concert became the buzz at my office.

The day before the band and Rose were due back, I stopped by Peter's office to see if he needed full coverage of the event.

"No, I'm sending someone else."

Because of my connection to the band, I had assumed the gig would be mine. I opened my mouth to protest—I could do a great writeup on the legwork needed to get this thing going and get interviews backstage that wouldn't be typical—but he laughed and shook his head.

"I already know what you're going to say, and it won't change things. You deserve a night off to just enjoy the show, remember your friend and share it with the others. Besides, I'm taking this one."

"One: thanks. Two: I see how you are. Baby's finally getting some sleep time in so you're going to call in a sitter and take Charlotte out. Which, three: it's about time, bossman. You haven't gone to a show in forever."

He grinned, unrepentant. "With all these bands showing up like they are? It's the hottest ticket in town."

I puffed up a little at that. Tyler would have been so stoked to be a part of something so cool.

"Well, I guess I'll see you there."

"Count on it."

-PoM-

It was the end of a long night, one filled with great music and covers of songs Tyler had loved. The first three bands had brought their all, with members from each of the other bands coming out to jam together. Edward even came out and joined the original Vertical Fish line up—lacking James, who, in a fit of temperamental rage, had left the band to start a 'solo' career—rocking on one of their best songs to date.

Edward had been by my side during the rest of it, though, quiet tonight and stoic. It was easy for me to see that he was relieved at how well everything was going, but I also knew how much he wished this night hadn't been needed.

Now I stood at the back of the theater waiting for the band's set.

The energy in the theater was amped to the ceiling, floating around me in excited buzzes and screams when mic checks started ringing out over the speakers. The crowd was beautiful, young and old, all excited faces and pure enjoyment. Music was so universal, so easy to share no matter who you were.

Someone bumped into me and I turned to see who it was. "Sorry, I'm in the way—Oh, hey, Jess."

She threw her arms around my shoulders, hugging me with all of her drunken might. "What are you doing over here? I thought you'd be backstage!"

"I usually watch from back there . . . but I wanted to see it from out front tonight." It seemed fitting, somehow.

"Are you on press credentials?"

"Nah, just here as a fan."

She nodded, stumbled on her platform sandals, and giggled. "Whoops. These drinks are strong. This is so cool! I've never seen your boyfriend's band, but I love their album. I can't wait to see them live. You're so lucky."

I smiled at her words, slippery and exaggerated as they were, and realized it was the first time I'd talked to her outside of work. She was just as nice away from the office as she was there, and I said, "Yeah, I am. I get to see them whenever I want to."

The lights dropped then, crowd going so crazy it was impossible to talk to Jessica. She went just as wild, hands going to her mouth and producing a loud whistle I'd always wanted to learn how to do.

The beginning notes of a song—the first one, in fact, that I'd ever heard them play—filled the dark theater; a blue light landed on the spot Tyler had always owned, and then Edward's voice was rising above the slow, melodic guitar riffs.

It was haunting, gorgeous, and I didn't worry about wiping the tears from my eyes when the lights kicked in with the beat and Leah stepped into a spot just adjacent to where Ty would have stood.

It was the first single released from the album, and the crowd sang it back to the stage. My voice joined in, and I loved how in tune everyone was. I knew that wherever Tyler was, he was nodding his head along, too.

"Wow!" Jessica screamed when the guitar solo was up and Jasper stalked the front of the stage. "Bella, Edward's like, super cute. And he's always so nice when he calls to talk to you. It must be so cool to have a boyfriend in a band."

For the most part, it was. It wasn't what I'd imagined my life would be a year and a half ago, and there had certainly been times when I didn't know if I could handle the stress, but I also wouldn't have it any other way. Because being in a band _was_ Edward's dream and it made him happy, and I'd learned that love was sharing the ups and downs, sharing the happy and the sad.

He was a part of me, and I him.

~The End~

-PoM-

* * *

_There will be an epilogue posted in a few days. Thank you so much for every last word of praise and encouragement you've sent me. This has been an incredible ride. xo_

_**Set List**_

_Blow Up The Ouside World - Soundgarden  
Would – Alice in Chains  
Porch – Pearl Jam  
Burden In My Hand – Soundgarden  
State of Love and Trust – Pearl Jam  
Deep – Pearl Jam  
Tyler – Toadies  
Say Hello 2 Heaven – Temple of the Dog  
Release – Pearl Jam _

_*Thank you Nic for giving me hours of your time to bounce tunes and ideas around and for giggling with me like no one should. xoxoxo _


	31. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

_**WitFit Jan/Feb 2013**_

_**90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll**_

**Epilogue**

-PoM-

_**1998**_

Midday traffic in downtown Seattle was an absolute nightmare. I tapped my fingers on the wheel and not-so-silently urged the cars to just move already. The clock on the dash told me I'd been sitting here for an hour already—which was just perfect. Edward was waiting on me, and I'd promised him that, today of all days, I'd be home on time. When a large van cut me off, I let the expletives fly.

It was so weird to realize that I was really, truly a grown-up now, one who preferred life in the 'burbs over the sprawl of an urban oasis.

Since, clearly, I wasn't going anywhere for a while, I dug through the bag of assorted nonsense I carried with me and found the CD I was meant to review, and popped it into the player.

"Ugh. Why me?"

Poppy, upbeat music filled my car and I rolled my windows up. I loved my work, I truly did, but there was no way in hell I wanted anyone to glance over and realize the sultry, manufactured tones of the latest 'good girl who really wasn't' were coming from the vicinity of my vehicle. Which was dumb—no one knew who I was, after all.

But . . . still.

Traffic eased up around track five and I put my foot to the floor, avoiding the spots where I knew the cops liked to run radar. Once I was home and in the garage, I grabbed my stuff from the backseat. The Apple Powerbook Edward had bought so I could work while on the road with him was so freaking heavy, but at least the portability made up for it.

After I graduated college, I was able to go on the road with the band whenever I wanted to. Peter, who saw the opportunity in a reporter 'on the front lines' of touring, gave me a title that matched my wanderlust, and it was a good fit for a long time.

The guys did well, but never on the level of some of the heavy-hitters. The first three albums saw a moderate success, and, while I would never voice it out loud, I wondered often if it would have been different had we not lost Ty. They had a loyal fanbase, though, and each subsequent album made them some money.

Then the bottom slowly fell out on 'the Grunge movement' and they had to struggle to stay relevant—but remain true to themselves—as the electronic wave of new-rock gained a foothold. The band spent most of their time touring, spending endless energy to get to the fans rather than making a deal with the devil—the record companies.

After almost a decade spent making albums and touring to support each release, the band had finally taken a year off to unwind. Jasper was off in Austin for most of the year, Alice at his side while he worked with two upcoming bands as a producer. Rose and Emmett, still together even after some bumps in the road, were building a house an hour away from ours. Ben and Leah—who'd had a disastrous, six month hookup that had almost brought things to a standstill for the band pretty early on—were each doing their own thing.

The weekly paper changed, too. Originally a plethora of information about the Seattle music scene, it slowly morphed into a weekly entertainment guide covering anything from plays to movie reviews. Peter left the paper to pursue his own dream of writing a bestseller, and the day he and Charlotte moved to North Carolina was the end of my tenure with _The Rocket._

Now I freelanced. Spin and Rolling Stone had picked up some articles from me, and, while those were some of the coolest things in my career, I would always miss the place I started at. Hell, sometimes I even missed Marcus.

I set my work bags down next to the desk in the kitchen and on the counter, the few groceries I'd picked up at the market. As I was putting things away, I paused to listen for any signs of life in the house.

The soft plucking of guitar strings floated downstairs when I entered the kitchen. I smiled and put the last container of juice in the refrigerator . . . and cleaned up the remnants of a peanut butter and jelly lunch left on the counter. Some things never changed.

Kitchen clean once more, I headed up the stairs, calling out "Hello?"

"Again, again!"

Smiling, I popped my head in the door of the upstairs den and watched my two favorite people welcome me home. Edward, guitar on his lap and our daughter next to him, was working on something new.

"Mommy!"

"Hi, babe," Edward said, setting his guitar down and grinning at the sight of a little munchkin wrapping herself around my legs. "I was starting to worry about you."

"Sorry, I'm late traffic was a bi—pain."

Today was the first session they'd be spending making music together in twelve months. He was kind of nervous, kind of excited, and I was thrilled to see him so amped up.

"No big. Jas called a little bit ago because the studio isn't ready yet and I don't have to be there 'til two." His smile turned teasing. "If you would ever use that phone we bought, you'd have known that."

I picked my daughter up, winced at how heavy she was getting. "Hush it. I forgot. You know I'm not used to having a phone in my freaking car."

"Mommy, you're not 'apposed to say bad words."

"Yes, Mommy slipped. How about you go play in your room for a while so I can talk to Daddy?" I set her down in the hall and watched her scamper off, long bronze curls flying behind her as she went.

She was such a mini Edward.

"Not sure I'm ready to go this time."

I turned back into the den and went to sit on the couch next to my husband. "It's been a while. I wish we could go . . ."

With Eliza just starting school, though, that would be impossible. Neither Edward nor I wanted to take her away from the routine she'd only recently settled into.

"I wish you could, too." He slung his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in. "I think I forgot what going on the road is like with you two not there."

"Well, you won't have to stop at so many fast food places with ball pits."

"Emmett's gonna be heartbroken about that."

I nodded. "I think you're probably right."

Life had been so good to us in the early days. We went everywhere, got to travel to some places overseas that I wasn't sure I would have ever gone. I found out I was pregnant on the road, went as long as I could before I just got too uncomfortably huge to waddle from concert hall to concert hall. He was stressed that I was home alone and ending up canceling tour dates the last two weeks of my pregnancy. He was at my side when our daughter took her first look at the world.

Eliza had been brought up on the road, and it wasn't a bad thing because she was surrounded by people who loved her. We'd married in a small courthouse along the way two years ago, our baby held between us and a bunch of hungover rockstars as our witnesses.

We weren't conventional, and I was okay with that.

"Better keep the hollering to a minimum or you'll be a frog by the time you get home," I teased, poking his side. "You know, you're not as young as you used to be."

"You think you're so witty." He bent me backward on the couch and slid his hand up my shirt. "But you're really not."

"Mmm, much as I'd like to continue this there are little ears about twenty steps away right now."

"Better get the fun stuff done quick, then."

He kissed me and it was better than the last time he had. Every time was. There was something about us that never seemed to tire or grow dull, and I hoped it never would.

Over the years, Edward had done his best to hold up his end of our bargain. There were times he couldn't be there that I understood, and there were times he fought hell and high water to surprise me—my college graduation, for example. The whistles and catcalls my name had roused as I'd received my diploma had caught my attention and I'd looked up from the stage to see him, my family, and Rose and Emmett standing in the seats of Hec Ed Pavillion.

"Mommy, mommy!"

Because our daughter still didn't quite grasp what an _inside voice _was we had just enough time to straighten up before she burst in to the room.

"What's up, buttercup?"

"Daddy learned me one of your favoritest songs today." She stood in front of us, so, so serious, and said, "You play and I'll sing, okay Daddy?"

He grabbed his guitar and looked at her intently. "Okay. Ready?"

"Yep."

Over the top of her head we exchanged a look—it was one of those typical _parents _ looks that illustrated how our daughter was the center of our world, how we were so amazed this tiny little force of nature had come from us.

When I recognized the opening chords, I froze, smile still on my face so Eliza wouldn't think I hated her singing.

"_When I'm-a walking I strut my stuff . . ." _

"Should we really be teaching her that one?" I whispered.

"Mommy, no talking, we's singing to you."

"Sorry, baby. You sounded so pretty."

"She doesn't know what the words mean, just that you like it," he said, trying not to laugh.

She put her little hands on her hips, staring down Edward until he started strumming his guitar again and she could launch back into the song. She flubbed a lot of the words, but that was okay because she was mine and she looked like Edward when she sang, closing her eyes at the high notes and holding her arms out, too.

He, of course, beamed at her, so proud of his first born.

During the last year he'd taken up photography. His eye for live action and outdoor photos was impressive, and with nothing in line for the band for a while, his need to be creative was appeased behind a lens. He found peace there . . . and we had about a gazillion pictures of our baby girl now, too.

I clapped when they were through with their song, and laughed when, with the true essence of a four year old, she ran out of the room squealing to burn off some of her energy.

"That was cute, Daddy."

"I'm glad she got my ability to carry a tune."

"Are you saying I can't sing?"

"Just stick to writing, Mama," he said flashing me his sexiest grin. "So, how did the teleconference go?"

"Alright, I guess. I'm kind of pissed though. They want me to cover all of this . . . crap. It's poppy and lame, and I know this is just a trend in music, but it's so not my thing. I'd kill for something about a struggling rock band from the trenches."

"Then tell them that. You're freelancing now so take the assignment or don't," he said as he plucked a few strings. I moved over to where he was sitting and he put his guitar aside as I settled myself under his arm.

"I've been mulling this idea to write a 'behind the scenes' piece on this band coming out of California. They're touring relentlessly right now, much like you guys did in the beginning, and getting most of their push from the fans. I can see them being a big thing someday."

"That sounds like a great idea. You can pop down to SoCal for a few days and do some research. We'll be okay here. We're not leaving for another three weeks."

I looked into his green eyes, so thankful that we had come so far. He never hesitated to support me in whatever I wanted to do and it made my heart swell inside of my chest. I leaned in to kiss him, smiling when he stuck his hands up my shirt. Again.

"You're so predictable," I said against his mouth.

"You love it."

"I do."

"I love hearing you say those words." He leaned me back, fingers exploring my bra and then the skin underneath. And then he made my brain stop fluttering over all the reasons we shouldn't because he was right there and he smelled good, and his mouth was the best sort of fit to mine.

Things were just getting good when running footsteps pounded down the hall. We sprung apart in time to be piled with stuffed animals, Barbies, and a warning that she didn't have enough hands to hold her books, too.

And then she was gone.

"Blocked again," he said, holding up a tattered bunny.

I laid my head on his shoulder. "So . . . teaching her songs, huh? You trying to turn our kid into a musician?"

He grinned. "If she wants to do it, great, but I'm not going to force her."

I picked up a Barbie who'd seen better days. Poor thing had half of her hair missing. "What if she decides she wants to be like her mom and date the rock-n-roll boy?"

"Oh, hell no. Not my daughter."

I cracked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's not going out with any musicians."

"I did all right."

"Yeah. But _you_ are an exception. _She_ is another case entirely."

Just then she ran back from her bedroom and leaped into Edwards lap. She put her hands on his face to get his complete attention and kissed him on the cheek.

"Can I have some ice cream now?"

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "See?"

I held up my fingers. "Wrapped."

"By the both of you."

-PoM-

* * *

_Thank you for reading and please leave a review to let me know what you think!_

_I started a blog that contains the playlists and videos that I used for inspiration over at: partofme dash luckyirishtart dot blogspot dot com_

_Songs: Wild Horses – The Sundays_

_Sweet Euphoria – Chris Cornell _

_*And now for the big note…_

_I would like to thank each and every one of you who took the time to pimp this out on Twitter, Facebook, The Lemonade Stand, Edwardville, and ADF among a few others. When I started this, I was kind of just wanting to get the idea out of my head since it had been rattling around in there for so long. Little did I know that it would be embraced like it was._

_I would have loved to give you review replies every chapter but working full time and doing this everyday was a lot. But I loved every minute of it. Please know I appreciate every single review._

_I also have to thank my friend, Nic, who gave me a lot of her time to talk and work ideas around when I was pinched. She helped fix my disaster of a chapter when I was on the road and couldn't get to a computer for which I am indebted. That's the beauty of this fandom, I have met so many amazing people who became my friends and look forward making more._

_xo_


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